rice, grilled trout, and vegetables.
Reclining upon cushions, Reiko sipped tea. Tendrils of hair had escaped her upswept coiffure; fatigue shadowed her eyes; food stains blotched her maroon silk kimono. She was twenty-three years old, and motherhood had given her a new, mature beauty. “Masahiro is so lively, he wears me out,” she said.
“You work too hard,” Sano said between bites of fish. “Let the maids help with Masahiro.”
“Oh, well. Masahiro keeps me busy.” Reiko smiled, adding wistfully, “There’s not much else for me to do.”
Sano knew that Reiko, the only child of Magistrate Ueda, had enjoyed an unconventional girlhood. Her indulgent father had hired tutors to give her the education usually reserved for samurai sons bound for careers in the bakufu. Despite all her training, however, which extended even to the martial arts, women couldn’t hold government posts or work as anything except servants, farm laborers, nuns, or prostitutes. Not until she married had Reiko found a use for her talents: helping Sano with his investigations.
She’d uncovered clues in places where male detectives couldn’t go. She’d gathered information through a network composed of women associated with powerful samurai clans. Often her discoveries led to the solution of a case. But since Masahiro’s arrival, Reiko had spent almost all her time at the estate. The child had occupied her, and there’d been no work for her in Sano’s recent investigations.
“What did you do today?” Reiko asked.
The eager curiosity in her voice told Sano that she missed the challenge of detective work. Now he realized with consternation that she’d lost some of her spirit. That he hadn’t noticed this before signified that they’d grown apart. Maybe a short break from housewifery would refresh Reiko and bring them closer together.
“I have a new case,” Sano said. While he ate rice and pickled daikon, he told Reiko about the fire and the three deaths. He described his unsuccessful interrogation of Haru, then said, “From her behavior toward the fire brigade, the priests, Hirata, and myself, I believe she’s afraid of men. I ordered her moved from the orphanage to the main convent at Zojo Temple because I don’t want potential suspects-as all the residents of the Black Lotus Temple are- to influence my only witness. I’d like you to go there and interview Haru.”
Sano smiled at Reiko. “You’re my only female detective, and I’m hoping that you can get some information from her. Do you want to try?”
Reiko sat up straight; her eyes sparkled, and she shed her weariness like a cast-off garment. “I would love to.”
“I must warn you that Haru may not cooperate with you,” Sano said, though pleased by Reiko’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, I’m sure I can persuade her to talk. How soon can we go to the Black Lotus Temple?” Reiko looked ready to jump up and leave immediately.
“I have to go to Edo Morgue tomorrow,” Sano said, “then make inquiries around town.” Seeing Reiko’s disappointed expression, he said, “But my detectives are going to Zojo district in the morning. They can escort you, if you like.”
“Wonderful. I can hardly wait.”
Reiko shimmered with happy energy. Sano saw in her the young bride who on their wedding day had pleaded to help solve a murder case, then forged ahead on her own after he’d refused. He felt a surge of love for her.
“All right,” he said. “We can share our results in the evening.”
A distant look came into Reiko’s eyes, as if she’d mentally moved ahead in time to tomorrow. “This is a very important interview. I must be careful with Haru. Tell me everything about her, so I can decide how best to draw her out.”
They discussed possible strategies, just as they had in the days before Masahiro. Sano realized he’d missed their partnership, and was glad he could include Reiko in the investigation.
2
When I heard the Law of the Black Lotus,
My mind filled with great joy,
And I was freed from care and distress.
– FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA
Zojo Temple, located just off the Tokaido-the highway that linked Edo with the imperial capital, Miyako- attracted a ceaseless flow of travelers, pilgrims, and mendicant monks. The approach to the temple comprised one of Edo ’s busiest marketplaces, where merchants sold refreshments, Buddhist relics, medicinal herbs, dishware, and many other goods. Today the market bustled in the warm weather. Beneath a sunny aquamarine sky that arched over hills green from the recent rainy season, samurai on horseback and strolling peasants browsed the stalls; nuns and priests begged alms. The crowd parted for a procession of mounted samurai escorting a black palanquin emblazoned with a flying-crane crest.
Inside the enclosed sedan chair, Reiko rode through Zojo’s main gate, an imposing structure with red lacquer woodwork and a double-tiered roof, whose three portals represented the three stages in the passage to nirvana. Anxiety undermined Reiko’s pleasure in the trip.
The morning had begun badly. When she’d tried to leave the house, Masahiro had clung to her, crying and screaming. Reiko promised him that she would be back soon, nearly in tears herself from the pain of their first separation. She’d debated staying home and trying again tomorrow, but the interview couldn’t be postponed. Finally the maids held Masahiro while Reiko ran out the door. All during the journey through Edo, she’d worried about her son.
Ahead loomed Zojo Temple ’s white walls. Beyond them rose peaked rooftops, multiple pagodas, and a wooded slope. The procession crossed the bridge over the Sakuragawa Canal. Sano’s detectives dismounted, then escorted the palanquin through the gate and up a steep flight of stone steps to the main temple precinct, past the sutra repository, worship halls, and the huge bronze bell in its wooden cage. Wrought-iron fences shielded Tokugawa family tombs. Crowds flowed in and out of a massive main hall with carved columns and doors and an undulating roof supported by complex bracketry. As she neared her destination, a new fear seized Reiko.
After her long hiatus from detective work, would she still be able to coax information from the orphan girl? Although she’d spent most of the night mentally rehearsing the interview, she felt unprepared, but it was too late for misgivings. The procession ascended more steps to the temple refectory, abbot’s residence, and quarters for the priests, novices, and servants. The bearers set down the palanquin outside the convent, a two-story wooden building with covered balconies, sheltered by a pine grove.
Shaky with nerves, Reiko picked up the package she’d brought, a round box wrapped in floral paper. She climbed out of the palanquin. The detectives went on to the Black Lotus Temple to continue investigating the fire. At the door of the convent, a nun greeted Reiko with a silent bow. Reiko introduced herself and explained the purpose of her visit. The nun led her inside, along corridors with bare rafters and plank floors. Open doors revealed the nuns’ quarters, which featured barred windows, simple cabinets, and wooden sleeping pallets. Reiko heard low feminine voices, but saw no one.
“How is Haru today?” Reiko asked.
The nun’s only reply was a vague half-smile. Reiko’s nervousness increased. They mounted the stairs to another corridor. The nun slid open a door, gestured for Reiko to enter, then bowed and departed.
Hesitating at the threshold, Reiko saw a cell furnished with a futon on a wooden pallet, washbasin, cupboard, and charcoal brazier. A table held bowls of dried leaves that looked to be herbal medicine. By the open window knelt a small, thin girl dressed in an indigo cotton kimono printed with white ivy vines. Her long, glossy hair was loose, her back to the door. Rocking gently back and forth, she seemed transfixed by the view of bright sky through pine boughs, or lost in thought.
“Haru-san?” Reiko said quietly.
The girl gave a violent start. She turned toward Reiko a face whose wide brow; tilted eyes, and pointed chin gave her the appearance of a pretty kitten. When her delicate lips parted, Reiko imagined hearing a tiny mew of fright.
