collating secret records, and drafting communications to be sent by express messenger to Miyako, while servants packed his baggage. Before dawn the next day, Yanagisawa rode out of the castle, accompanied only by Aisu and a few attendants and bodyguards instead of his usual huge entourage. They’d worn plain clothing without Tokugawa crests, and gained passage through highway check-points with documents that identified them by false names. Riding fast, stopping rarely, and sleeping a mere few hours each night, they’d reached Miyako two days ahead of Sano. Yanagisawa’s agents had sneaked them into Nijo Castle disguised as carpenters. Yanagisawa and Aisu had made the necessary preliminary arrangements before Sano’s arrival, yet the fact that everything had worked out so far didn’t negate the inherent dangers of the plan.
Leaving the seat of power, even for a short time, was a perilous move for Yanagisawa. He’d impressed upon the shogun the confidential nature of his mission in Omi Province and the need for only the two of them to know about his absence from Edo, yet he didn’t trust the dull-witted Tsunayoshi to keep a secret. He’d sworn his staff to secrecy, threatening them with death should they fail to cover his absence, but what if people discovered he was gone? Yanagisawa pictured subordinates robbing his treasury, his spies taking a holiday from gathering the information he needed, rivals usurping his authority and turning Tsunayoshi against him. And what if the shogun learned that Yanagisawa had lied to him about the reason for this trip? The shogun cherished a deluded belief in his officials’ honesty; he wouldn’t forgive being tricked. When Yanagisawa got back, he might find himself in utter disgrace, stripped of his rank and wealth, and sentenced to death.
Still, the potential advantages of the move justified the risks. In Miyako, Sano was in a vulnerable position, without his political allies or detective corps to assist and protect him. He wouldn’t know to beware of sabotage by Yanagisawa. And operating in secret, away from the shogun and all the spies who scrutinized his every move in Edo, gave Yanagisawa the freedom he needed. Now he brooded, wishing he felt more comfortable with his choice. The smoke from his pipe hung in the stagnant air; ghostly moths flitted around the lanterns. Gongs rang in the distance; the incessant whine of insects came through the open doors. Yanagisawa shifted uncomfortably inside his sweat-drenched clothes. He hated Miyako and its awful heat. He longed to be back in Edo, secure in victory.
“Solving the mystery of Left Minister Konoe’s death from behind the scenes won’t be easy,” he said. “The need to stay hidden until the critical moment presents complications.”
However, secrecy wasn’t the only problem. Reports from Yanagisawa’s Miyako agents indicated that Konoe had been the victim of a bizarre murder. Yanagisawa had never investigated a crime, and he felt handicapped by his inexperience. But he’d set his scheme in motion, and he must follow it through to the end. He must apprehend the killer before Sano did, in a manner that created the impression that he’d happened along during the course of his inquiries in Omi Province, observed that Sano was making poor progress, and stepped in to solve the case. No one must guess that Yanagisawa had come here specifically to beat Sano at his own game, or think he’d won by underhanded means, because he didn’t want it publicly known that he’d resorted to such desperate tactics. By the time he was finished, Sano’s reputation as a great detective would be his.
“Let’s drink a toast for good luck,” Aisu said.
He clapped his hands. Female bodyguards-the only attendants allowed in this most private chamber-silently entered the room. On Aisu’s orders, they served wine, then silently departed.
Aisu raised his cup and said, “Here’s to your victory and the sosakan-sama’s downfall.”
Yanagisawa and Aisu drank. From the street drifted the laughter and shouts of the Obon crowds; more gongs clanged. The tart, refreshing liquor invigorated Yanagisawa; he smiled.
Refilling the cups, Aisu proposed another toast: “May you capture Left Minister Konoe’s killer the way you did the Lion.”
Malice hardened Yanagisawa’s smile. “No,” he said, “not quite like the Lion. Remember, this time, Sano won’t get another chance to redeem himself.”
Aisu’s hooded eyes glistened; his sinuous body squirmed with anticipation. “How shall Sano die?”
“I don’t know yet,” Yanagisawa admitted reluctantly. “Nor can I predict the exact outcome of the investigation.”
He leapt to his feet and paced the room in a fever of impatient energy. 'Everything depends on the case itself. I must see what happens and use whatever opportunities arise. I don’t have enough information to take the next step. However, that problem should be remedied very soon.” Yanagisawa halted by the door and gazed out at the dark, lush garden, listening for sounds that would herald the arrival of the news he awaited.
“Then I’ll decide what to do.”
Several long, unproductive hours later, Sano finished interviewing the Konoe clan members. They’d been shocked to learn that the left minister had been murdered, instead of dying from a mysterious disease as they’d thought. They hadn’t known he was a metsuke spy, and claimed no knowledge about which of the suspects might have killed him. All Sano managed to learn were two stray facts.
A cousin of Konoe’s said he’d heard on several occasions a much less powerful version of the spirit cry. Afterward, dead birds had been found in the garden. This confirmed Sano’s belief that someone in the palace did indeed have the power of kiai. Had he-or she-been practicing for the murder?
Fifteen years ago, Konoe’s secretary, a young man named Ryozen, had been stabbed to death. This was presumably the crime that the bakufu had covered up in order to force Konoe to spy for the metsuke, but Sano found no apparent connection between the incident and Konoe’s murder. Nor did Detectives Marume and Fukida glean any clues from the servants.
Now Sano, Hoshina, and the detectives stood outside Konoe’s private chambers, which occupied two adjoining rooms in an inner section of the house. Mullioned paper walls enclosed the space, affording greater privacy than the open plan of classic imperial architecture.
“Has anything in there been disturbed since Left Minister Konoe’s death?” Sano asked the courtier who’d admitted him to the estate.
“The rooms have been cleaned, but his possessions are still there,” the courtier said. “That’s his office. This is his bedchamber.” He opened the door, and a musty smell rushed out. After lighting a lantern in the room, he bowed and left.
Sano entered and swept his gaze around the room. The tatami floor was bare; sets of lacquered tables and silk cushions were neatly stacked. Sano saw no personal articles. Presumably, these were inside the built-in storage cabinet and wardrobe.
“Search this room,” Sano told his detectives.
“What are we looking for?” Marume asked.
“Anything that can tell us about Konoe’s life, what kind of person he was, or his relationships.”
Marume began opening drawers in the cabinet. Fukida started on the closet. Sano and Hoshina moved through the connecting door to the office. There, an alcove contained a desk and built-in shelves of ledgers and books. Across the desk, open scrolls covered with calligraphy lay amid writing supplies. The doors of a cabinet stood ajar, revealing compartments full of clutter. A large wicker basket held paper scraps; fireproof iron chests stood three high.
While Hoshina watched, Sano scanned the scrolls on the desk. They concerned repairs to the palace walls. In the drawers Sano discovered Konoe’s jade seal and a tobacco pipe and pouch, but no diary. Sano took a ledger off a shelf. It bore the title, “Proceedings of the Imperial Council, Teikyo Year 3.” Although Sano doubted that the court archives contained what he was looking for, he examined each ledger for the sake of thoroughness. What a lot of words the imperial bureaucracy generated! Next, Sano went through the cabinet. He found official memoranda from the left minister’s colleagues, pronouncements issued by emperors, and long documents describing imperial law and protocol. The trash basket contained scribbled notes about the palace budget.
“If Konoe left behind any records about whom he spied on and what he learned, I don’t see them here,” Sano said to Hoshina. “Nor is there any evidence of any activities except official business.”
“Maybe your men are having better luck,” Hoshina said.
But when they returned to the bedchamber, Detective Fukida said, “There’s nothing here but clothes, bedding, toiletries, and the usual things that might belong to anybody. All we can tell about Konoe is that he dressed mostly in shades of brown.”
“It’s as though he lived and worked here without leaving any trace of himself, let alone the reason for his murder or the identity of his killer.” Sano shook his head in bewildered disappointment. A murder victim’s quarters were usually a source of valuable clues, but never had Sano seen any so devoid of personality. “Let’s do a more
