to work in the Large Interior. None would have attacked a favored concubine.”
Madam Chizuru set her jaw and looked at the floor. Sano saw a disturbing fact emerging: Lady Keisho-in was oblivious to what happened around her. The otoshiyori handled the administration of the Large Interior, just as Chamberlain Yanagisawa managed the government for Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. That both leaders of Japan ’s ruling clan were so weak and dull-witted-there seemed no better term for it-boded ill for the nation.
“Sometimes people are not what they seem,” Sano hinted. “Someone may hide his true nature, until something happens… ”
Chizuru seized on this opening: she was obviously torn between fears of contradicting Lady Keisho-in and of lying to the shogun’s sosakan-sama.
“The palace guards are all men who come from good families and have good service records. Usually they’re of good character, too. But one of them, Lieutenant Kushida… Four days ago, Lady Harume registered a complaint. She said he was behaving in an improper fashion toward her. When the palace officials weren’t watching, he would loiter around her, trying to start conversations about… inappropriate things.”
Meaning sex, Sano interpreted.
“Lieutenant Kushida sent offensive letters to Lady Harume, or so she said,” continued Madam Chizuru. “She even claimed that he spied on her while she bathed. She said she told him again and again to leave her alone, but he persisted, then finally got mad and threatened to kill her.”
“Disgusting!” Lady Keisho-in made a face, then said indignantly, “Why does no one tell me anything?”
Chizuru’s pained glance at Sano told him that she had informed the shogun’s mother, who had forgotten.
“What happened then?” Sano asked.
“I was reluctant to believe the accusations,” Chizuru said. “Lieutenant Kushida has worked here for ten years without causing any trouble. He is a fine, upstanding man. Lady Harume had been here only a short time.” The otoshiyori’s tone indicated that she had thought Harume less fine and upstanding, and the likely source of the problem. “However, this kind of accusation is always treated seriously. The law forbids male staff to bother the women, or engage in any improper relations with them. The penalty is dismissal. I reported the matter to the chief administrator. Lieutenant Kushida was temporarily relieved of his duties, pending an investigation of the charges.”
“And was this investigation performed?” Sano asked.
“No. And now that Lady Harume is dead…”
The charges, without her to substantiate them, must have been dropped, which explained why the chief administrator had neglected to tell Hirata about them. How fortunate for Lieutenant Kushida that his accuser’s death had averted the disgrace of losing his post. He, as well as the envious Lady Ichiteru, definitely merited an interview.
“Jealous concubines, rude guards,” lamented Keisho-in. “Dreadful! Sosakan-sama, you must find and punish whoever killed my sweet little Harume and save us all from this evil, dangerous person.”
“I’ll need to have my detectives search the Large Interior and speak with the residents,” Sano said. “May I have your permission?”
“Of course, of course.” Lady Keisho-in nodded vigorously. Then, with a grunt, she pushed herself upright and beckoned Madam Chizuru to help her stand. “It’s time for my prayers. But please come and see me again.” She dimpled at Hirata. “You, too, young man.”
They made their farewells. Hirata almost ran from the room. Sano followed, wondering about his retainer’s uncharacteristic bashfulness and looking ahead to all the work they must do. Yet as they left the palace, he was glad that the hour was too late to begin calling on suspects or witnesses, and that they needn’t meet with the shogun until tomorrow. At home, Reiko waited. This was their wedding night.
7
Servants greeted Sano in the entryway of his mansion when he arrived home. They relieved him of his cloak and swords and ushered him into the parlor, where charcoal braziers and lanterns burned, and wall murals depicted a serene mountain landscape. Resting upon silk floor cushions, Sano felt the tensions of the day dissolve and happy anticipation swell within him. Hirata had gone to give orders to the detective corps and secure the estate for the night. Sano’s time was his own, until tomorrow. His marriage could begin.
“Would you like a meal?” the chief manservant asked.
Sano nodded, then said, “Where is… my wife?” The phrase felt strange on his lips, but as satisfying as a drink of water after a long, dry journey.
“She has been told that you’re home, and she’s coming right away.” The servant bowed and left the room.
As Sano waited, his heart beat faster; his stomach tightened. Then the door slid open. Sano sat up straight. Into the room walked Reiko. Dressed in a dull orange silk kimono printed with golden asters, her long hair pinned up, his bride carried a porcelain sake decanter and two cups on a tray. Eyes demurely lowered, she glided over to Sano, knelt before him, set down the tray, and bowed.
“Honorable Husband,” she murmured. “May I serve you?”
“Yes. Please,” Sano said, admiring her youthful beauty.
The pouring of liquor smoothed the awkward moment-someone must have instructed Reiko on what to do when alone with her husband for the first time-but her hands trembled when she passed the cup to Sano. Sympathy eased his own nervousness. This was his domain. It was up to him to make Reiko feel comfortable here.
“I hope you’re feeling well?” he said, filling the other cup with sake and offering it to her.
Cautiously, as if afraid to touch his hand, Reiko took the cup. “Yes, Honorable Husband.”
They drank, and Sano saw that her teeth had been dyed black. An unexpected surge of warmth flooded his groin. He’d never given much thought to this familiar custom of married women; now, seeing Reiko thus transformed awakened his desire. It reminded him that she was his in body as well as spirit.
“Are your rooms satisfactory?” Sano tasted liquor and arousal. Reiko’s upswept hair accentuated her graceful neck and sloping shoulders. More than a year had passed since he’d been with a woman… “Have you gotten settled?”
“Yes, thank you.”
A tentative smile encouraged Sano: beneath the placid demeanor of a well-bred lady, she was not without feeling for him. Just then, a servant entered, gave Sano a hot, damp cloth for wiping his hands, and set before him a lacquer meal tray. When he and Reiko were alone again, she quickly removed the lids from his dishes of sashimi, steamed trout, and vegetables, then poured his tea. She would have eaten earlier, the better to serve him. Her wifely subservience delighted Sano.
“I hope you’ll be happy here,” he said. “If there’s anything you want, just ask.”
Reiko lifted an eager, shining face to him. “Perhaps-perhaps I could help you investigate the death of the shogun’s concubine,” she blurted.
“What?” The morsel of fish Sano had lifted to his mouth fell from his chopsticks as he stared in surprise.
Gone were his bride’s self-effacing pose and appealing shyness. Head high, back straight, she looked Sano directly in the face. Her eyes flashed with nervous daring. “Your work interests me very much. I’ve heard rumors that Lady Harume was murdered. If it’s true, I want to help catch the killer.” She gulped, then continued in a rush: “You said that if there was anything I wanted, I should ask.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Dismay jolted Sano. From deep within his memory rose scenes from his childhood: his mother cooking, cleaning, and sewing at home while his father ventured out into the world to earn their living. Experience had formed Sano’s notion of a proper marriage. A host of additional reasons forbade him to grant Reiko’s request. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I appreciate your offer, but a murder investigation is no place for a wife.”
He expected her to accept his decision, as his mother had all of his father’s. But Reiko said, “My father told me you’d think that, and he agrees. But I want to work, to be useful. And I can help you.”
“But how?” Sano asked, increasingly bewildered as his dream of conjugal felicity evaporated around him. Who was this strange, obstinate girl he’d married? “What could you possibly do?”
“I’m educated; I can read and write as well as any man. For ten years I’ve watched my father’s trials in the
