“Yes.” Hirata shivered at the eerie sensation of Deguchi’s thoughts invading his mind. “Can you hear my thoughts, too?”
No. Not unless you learn how to send them.
Relieved, Hirata said, “I’m ready for your explanation.”
* * *
When Sano arrived at the rebuilding magistrates’ headquarters, he met Moriwaki in the hall. “While you were gone, a message came for you, from the shogun,” Moriwaki said, flashing his bright smile. “He wants to see you at once.”
Sano rode to the castle. In the palace, the shogun sat in his study. Scrolls were heaped on the gold-inlaid, black lacquer desk. The shogun was stamping them with his signature seal without reading them. He frowned as if the job were taxingly difficult.
“Ahh, it’s you,” he said. “Come in.”
Sano knelt and bowed. “Your Excellency summoned me?”
“Yes.” The shogun’s frown deepened. “It has come to my attention that, ahh, instead of rebuilding Edo, you have, ahh, been snooping around, making inquiries about my daughter.”
There went Sano’s hope that the shogun wouldn’t find out about his investigation until he’d solved the crime. And the shogun was clearly displeased. “May I ask who told you?”
“No, you may not.”
Sano mentally ran through the list of people who knew about the investigation. Yanagisawa and Yoshisato wouldn’t have told. Or would they? Although they didn’t want the shogun suspecting them of foul play, they might have enlisted him to order the investigation stopped. Lady Nobuko had agreed that the investigation should be kept secret, but Sano still didn’t trust her. Sano didn’t think Lord Tsunanori would tell, but who knew for sure?
“Just tell me,” the shogun said. “Why are you investigating my daughter?”
Sano owed the shogun the truth. If the investigation had involved his own daughter, he would want to know. And now that Yanagisawa knew, it might as well come out. “Because I believe she was murdered.”
A familiar, queasy expression came over the shogun’s face: He didn’t understand, and he was afraid to ask for clarification and risk looking stupid. “But, ahh … Didn’t she die of smallpox? My memory isn’t, ahh, what it used to be.”
Sano explained about the infected sheet.
The shogun gasped in horror. “Merciful gods! If it happened to her, it could happen to me!” He hurried to the door, summoned his servants, and said, “Inspect my chambers. Look for things with blood or pus on them. If you find any, then burn everything!” The servants ran off. He collapsed behind his desk and held up his hands, afraid to touch anything.
“I don’t think Your Excellency is in any danger.” Even as Sano spoke, he couldn’t quite dismiss the idea that Tsuruhime’s murder was part of a larger plot against the Tokugawa clan and the shogun was next.
Calmer but not totally reassured, the shogun asked, “Who killed Tsuruhime?”
Here was Sano’s opportunity to implicate Yanagisawa in the crime. If he succeeded, the shogun would put Yanagisawa to death and Sano would be rid of Yanagisawa for good. The opportunity shone like an oily, dirty rainbow floating on clean water. Sano didn’t have any evidence against Yanagisawa. Honor forbade him to incriminate someone who might be innocent. Sano did have evidence against Yoshisato, but he was loath to hurt Yoshisato, even though Yoshisato was a party to an outrageous fraud. And Sano knew better than to suggest that Yoshisato had killed Tsuruhime. Casting aspersion on the shogun’s heir would be treason. Furthermore, Sano hadn’t forgotten Lord Tsunanori and the nurse. They were still suspects, too.
“I don’t know who the killer is yet,” Sano said. “My investigation hasn’t progressed that far.” Opportunity drained away like water down a gutter.
“Why not?” The shogun glowered. “And you call yourself a detective?” He’d obviously forgotten that Sano wasn’t one anymore.
“I’ve had to fit my inquiries in between my duties as Chief Rebuilding Magistrate.”
“Those duties aren’t as important as finding out who killed my daughter and, ahh, protecting me.” The shogun pointed his finger at Sano. “You will, ahh, dedicate yourself to your investigation until the murderer is caught.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Sano bowed, rose, and escaped before the shogun could tack a threat onto his order.
That he now had time and official sanction for his investigation was a mixed blessing. Duty to the shogun put him further at odds with Yanagisawa, who wouldn’t let the fact that their lord wanted the investigation prevent him from trying to stop it. And if Sano couldn’t solve the murder, he would be put to death regardless of what happened with Yanagisawa.
* * *
Hirata and Deguchi sat by the canal, holding hands like lovers while Deguchi told his tale. When I was eight years old, my parents died. I lived on the streets. I ate garbage. I begged. Sometimes I went with men. They would have sex with me and pay me a few coppers.
Hirata remembered Tahara telling him that Deguchi had been an orphan and child prostitute. Tahara had lied about many things, but at least this was apparently true.
Some of the men liked to hurt me. Ienobu was one of those.
Hirata was surprised. “I’ve never heard that Ienobu has sex with boys.”
He keeps it secret. He doesn’t want people to know he’s like his uncle the shogun. He wants them to think he’s pure and noble. Disdain turned the voice in Hirata’s head into acid. I’ve been spying on him. He travels in a closed palanquin, to inns outside town. His valet is there with a boy for him. That’s what happened to me. A man picked me up on the street and left me in a room at an inn. Then Ienobu came. He beat me and choked me while he raped me.
Anger burned in Deguchi’s eyes. Hirata felt his hand trembling. When he finished, I was bruised and covered with blood. I hurt so much I couldn’t move. Ienobu left. His valet dumped me in an alley. He thought I was dead. But I managed to stand up. I started walking. I kept going until I reached Zōjō Temple. Then I collapsed. The priests took me in. They nursed me until I was well. I became a novice. I had food and clothes and an education and a place to live. But I couldn’t forget the men who’d hurt me. I swore that someday I would kill them. But I didn’t know how I would do it. Until one day when an itinerant priest and his disciple came to visit. It was Ozuno and Tahara.
So this was how and where the seeds for the secret society had been planted. The canal, the ruins, and the hot sun faded from Hirata’s consciousness as he listened in fascination.
Ozuno gave a martial arts lesson for the novices. I was the best pupil. He invited me to go with him and Tahara. I was twelve. He said he would turn me into a great fighter. And I saw that if I went, I could learn everything I needed.
He and Deguchi had both had personal reasons for studying the mystic martial arts, Hirata realized. He’d wanted to recover his strength after his injury; Deguchi had wanted the skills for murder.
At first Tahara was jealous because he had to share Ozuno with me, but we became friends. I studied with Ozuno for six years. Then I left to wander the country and practice my skills. Tahara had already gone by that time. After a while I came back to Edo. I became a priest. And I went looking for those men. One was a rich moneylender. I climbed in his window at night while he was sleeping, and I strangled him.
The voice in Hirata’s head was chillingly matter-of-fact as it described four other murders Deguchi had committed. Deguchi apparently saw no conflict between his actions and the Buddhist prohibition against taking lives.
In the meantime, I met up with Tahara again. We met Kitano. He’d studied with Ozuno before we started. A few years later we formed the secret society. Deguchi turned to Hirata. You know most of what happened next.