anything?” Sano said skeptically.
A dour expression curved Tamura’s mouth downward. “I wish I had. Then I would have woken up and saved my master.”
Still doubtful, Sano said, “Were you and Senior Elder Makino on good terms?”
“Very good.” Pride rang in Tamura’s voice. “I served him well for thirty years, and I was his chief retainer for twenty. Our clans have been linked for three centuries. My loyalty to him was absolute. If you won’t take my word for it, just ask around.”
Sano would. He planned to check the statements and backgrounds of all the suspects. “Had there been any problems between you and Makino-san?”
Flashing Sano a look of exasperation, Tamura said, “Of course. No two people can live and work together for thirty years in complete peace. I’ll admit that he wasn’t an easy man to serve, but I revered him, no matter that he got crankier as he aged. That’s the Way of the Warrior.”
Sano contemplated the nature of the bond between master and retainer. It was the closest, most important relationship in samurai society, akin to marriage, and fraught with tension. The master gave orders, which the retainer must always obey. Their unequal footing, and the constant need to efface himself, often grated on a samurai’s pride. Sano thought of the trouble between himself and Hirata, and he could easily imagine that Senior Elder Makino had exceeded the limits of Tamura’s endurance.
“Had you any recent quarrels with your master?” Sano said.
“I would call them disagreements, not quarrels,” Tamura said. “When he did things that I thought were wrong, I advised him against doing them. That’s a chief retainer’s duty.”
“What were those wrong things he did?” Sano said, hoping for reasons that Tamura might have wanted him dead.
“Nothing important.” Tamura’s tone said he didn’t intend to elaborate.
“Did he reject your advice?”
A wry smile twisted Tamura’s mouth. “Often. He liked making his own decisions. He was difficult to sway.”
“Did you mind that he didn’t listen to you?”
“Not at all. A master has the right to do whatever he wants, regardless of what his retainer might say.”
Sano had the feeling that Makino had been a constant trial to Tamura, who didn’t seem the kind of man to appreciate having his advice ignored. “How did he treat you?”
“Usually with respect,” Tamura said. “But when he was in a bad temper, he shouted curses at me. I didn’t mind. I was used to it.”
Nor did Tamura seem a man to readily tolerate abuse. Sano said, “Did you ever want to punish Senior Elder Makino for mistreating you?”
“By murdering him, I suppose you mean.” Hostility narrowed Tamura’s eyes. “For a samurai to kill his master is the worst violation of Bushido. I would never have killed Senior Elder Makino for any reason.” Anger clenched his hand so hard on the veranda railing that his knuckles whitened. “That you would even suggest I did is the worst insult to my honor. I should challenge you to a duel and make you apologize for your accusation.”
Sano could tell that Tamura was serious, whether guilty of murder or not. The last thing Sano needed was to fight Tamura and either kill his suspect or lose his own life. “I’ll apologize right now for making any accusation that’s unjust,” he said mildly. “But even you can see that the circumstances suggest you killed Senior Elder Makino. You were one of a few people in his private quarters with him. Your rooms adjoin his. And you found his body.”
“That doesn’t prove I killed him,” Tamura scoffed.
“If indeed you are innocent, and you want to protect your honor-and your life-you’d best tell me everything you know about that night,” Sano said.
An intense frown contracted Tamura’s forehead, slanting his brows so sharply that they formed an inverted chevron over his eyes. Behind them, Sano saw thoughts churning. Then Tamura relaxed his features and blew out a gust of resignation.
“All right,” he said. “There was somebody else besides Senior Elder Makino’s wife, concubine, houseguest, and myself in the private quarters.”
Sano regarded Tamura with disbelief. None of Hirata’s interviews with the residents had placed a fifth person near Makino. Had Tamura been holding this fact in reserve, like a wartime general hoarding ammunition in case the enemy got too close? Or was he inventing a new suspect to cover his own guilt?
“Who was it?” Sano said.
“It was Matsudaira Daiemon,” said Tamura. “Lord Matsudaira’s nephew.”
The young man was the shogun’s latest favorite paramour and rumored to be his intended heir to the regime. He was also a strong supporter of his uncle’s bid for power and a vocal opponent of the Yanagisawa faction to which Makino had belonged.
Concern struck Sano as the investigation took a perilous turn. Dismay sharpened Otani’s features because he understood that his master had just been connected to the murder.
“Why would Daiemon come here?” Sano said.
“He was visiting my master,” said Tamura.
Sano couldn’t imagine Makino allowing a member of the enemy camp into his estate, let alone his private quarters. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier? Why didn’t anyone?”
“Senior Elder Makino ordered us to keep the visit a secret,” Tamura said. “We had to obey him, even after his death.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“Because I’ve decided that an occasion like this justifies disobedience.” Tamura exuded self-righteousness. “Lord Matsudaira’s nephew might have killed my master. I can’t keep quiet about his visit any longer.”
While Sano scrutinized him, trying to gauge his veracity, Tamura added, “The guards will confirm that Daiemon was here, as soon as I let them know they should.”
Sano intended to talk to them, although he expected they would say whatever Tamura ordered them to say, whether it was true or not. “Suppose you tell me about this visit. When am I to believe it occurred?”
“Just after dinner ended,” Tamura said, ignoring Sano’s skeptical tone. “Everyone was leaving the banquet hall, when a servant came to tell me that Daiemon was at the gate, wanting to see Senior Elder Makino. I went outside and asked Daiemon why he’d come. He said Senior Elder Makino had sent him a message that invited him for a visit. I left him waiting and went to tell Senior Elder Makino. He said to bring Daiemon to his private chambers. I advised against letting in someone from the opposition.” Tamura shot Otani a hostile look. “But it was one of those times when Senior Elder Makino chose to shun my advice. He ordered me to bring Daiemon. He said they had private business, and they were not to be disturbed. So I fetched Daiemon, delivered him to Senior Elder Makino’s office, and left them alone.”
“What happened then?” Sano said.
“I began my rounds. Later, the guards at the private quarters told me that Daiemon had just seen himself out.” Tamura grimaced in disgust. “The fools let him go, even though we have a strict rule that no outsider goes unescorted. I immediately gathered the patrol guards and mounted a search for Daiemon. He was nowhere to be found. The guards at the gates never saw him. No one knows how he got out.”
“So you’re saying Lord Matsudaira’s nephew had free run of the estate?” Sano perceived the implications.
“Yes. Maybe, while we were busy looking for Daiemon, he sneaked back to the private quarters.” Insinuation echoed in Tamura’s voice. “Maybe he finished his business with Senior Elder Makino.”
“Or maybe your story is pure fabrication,” Sano said. Not only did he distrust Tamura’s motives for telling it, but there were too many unexplained details, including why Daiemon had come and how he’d vanished without a trace afterward.
“But you’ll have to check into it, won’t you? That should keep you occupied for a while.” Obviously aware and pleased that he’d given Sano a clue that pointed him straight toward peril, Tamura said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my master’s funeral rites.”
He bowed and went into the house. Sano turned to his watchdog. “What do you have to say about this?”
“Tamura was lying.” Although Otani’s brusque voice rang with conviction, fear gleamed in his shrewd eyes. “My master’s nephew never visited Senior Elder Makino.”
“Do you know that for a fact?” Sano said.
