'Right you are.'
'So did my suspect.' Frustration vexed Sano.
'Those men look like ordinary no-goods, but they're tougher than the rest,' Marume commented.
Fukida asked Hirata, 'Do you think yours is guilty?'
'Yes,' Hirata said, although he seemed uncertain.
'Same here,' Sano said. 'But there's no evidence. All we have is one witness who saw Jinshichi lurking outside the convent, and one who saw Gombei at Shinobazu Pond.'
'Neither man was placed at the scene of the kidnappings at the times they happened,' Hirata reminded everyone.
'Or seen in the vicinity when the victims were dumped.' Sano had had great hopes for solving the case today, but now the investigation had stalled. 'And it doesn't look as if any confessions will be forthcoming.'
'If you want confessions, just say the word,' Hirata said.
Sano remembered that Hirata knew ways of inflicting pain with or without permanent physical damage. There wasn't a man on earth who could hold out. But Sano said, 'No. I'm still opposed to torture. I know those men are guilty, but I won't act on my judgment, or yours, without proof to back it up.'
That was part of his code of honor, which seemed particularly difficult to uphold today, when he wanted to punish someone for what had happened to Chiyo and the other women.
Hirata nodded. He shared Sano's principles, if not to the same degree.
'Besides,' Sano said, 'there's a chance that we're wrong about those men even though we don't think so. If that's the case, it would be a miscarriage of justice for Gombei and Jinshichi to die for the crimes while the real culprit goes free.'
'Then we'll find proof.' Hirata sounded just as determined to solve the case as Sano was. 'Shall I go back to Shinobazu Pond and look for other witnesses?'
Fukida said, 'Marume-san and I could sniff around Zj Temple district.'
Sano supposed that he himself could go back to Asakusa, but there must be some other way to quicker results. Into his mind popped a strategy he'd never had reason to use before.
'Not just yet,' Sano said. 'I have another plan.'
20
Along the Sumida River northwest of the castle, upstream from the ware houses and docks, stretched a wide embankment planted with cherry trees. It was popular in springtime, when the trees were in flower and the people of Edo flocked to picnic in the pavilions, drink in the teahouses along the path, float in pleasure boats on the river, and admire the pink blossoms.
But today the blossoms were long gone, the pavilions empty, the sky threatening more rain. The trees, in full summer leaf, shadowed the wet ground. Barges and ferries plied the river, which was brown and murky.
Yanagisawa and Yoritomo were among the few people strolling the embankment. They'd shed their rain capes and hats; they wore dark-colored silk robes without identifying crests. Their entourage waited behind them at a distance.
'What's the matter?' Yanagisawa asked.
'You look ill.'
Yoritomo's handsome face was pale and sweating; his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively. 'I'm just nervous.'
'Why?'
'I've never done this.'
They were about to embark upon a rite of passage that Yanagisawa had never subjected his son to before. Yanagisawa wondered if he should have scheduled a few practice runs to put Yoritomo at ease. He hoped Yoritomo wouldn't make a bad impression.
'I don't know how to act,' Yoritomo said, with shame, 'I don't have much experience with women.'
That was true. Yoritomo had been sheltered as a child, had lived in an isolated country villa with his mother. She was a distant cousin of the shogun, and Yoritomo the product of a brief liaison between her and Yanagisawa. During his boyhood, Yoritomo had encountered few women except her attendants. Later, his relationship with the shogun had precluded love affairs. Yanagisawa knew that Yoritomo had never experienced sex with a female, but that was, Yanagisawa hoped, about to change.
'Just be as respectful and dignified as you would on any other occasion,' Yanagisawa said.
'All right,' Yoritomo said, but Yanagisawa could see him trembling. Yanagisawa felt pity for his son, and guilt. Yoritomo's life had been far from normal, and Yanagisawa was largely to blame. 'But what should I say?'
'Don't say anything unless somebody speaks to you. If you are spoken to, just try to sound like the polite, charming, intelligent person that you are.'
Yoritomo squared his shoulders, bearing up under the weight of responsibility. 'Yes, Father,' he said bravely. 'I promise I won't let you down.'
Yanagisawa experienced a love for his son that was so strong his knees buckled. 'I won't let you down, either.'
Ahead, in the distance, three figures appeared. Yoritomo gulped and said, 'Here they come!'
'Relax,' Yanagisawa said. 'Don't be afraid. We're in this together.'
The figures drew closer. 'Lady Setsu,' emaciated and stern, and 'Lady Chocho,' her plump, babyish companion, walked on either side of a younger woman. She was unusually tall; she towered over them. They wore dark, modest, but sumptuous silk garments; she wore a robe patterned with green leaves and grasses in brighter tones, appropriate for a samurai lady who was some twenty-four years old. Yanagisawa thought her plain in the extreme. She was all awkward bones. Self-conscious about her height, she had bad posture. Her makeup didn't camouflage her beaked nose or heavy eyelids. Her one claim to beauty was her hair, dressed in a thick knot, shiny and lushly black.
'Greetings,' Yanagisawa said as he and Yoritomo stopped face-to-face with the women.
'Why, hello!' Lady Chocho exclaimed. As bows were exchanged, she batted her eyes at Yanagisawa and giggled. 'What a surprise to meet you here!'
'A wonderful coincidence,' Yanagisawa agreed.
They had to act as if this were a chance encounter. That was the custom for a miai, the first meeting between a prospective bride and groom and their relatives. If one side didn't want to go any further, both sides could pretend the miai had never happened and save face.
Yanagisawa was determined to see this miai through to the marriage.
'What a fine place for walking on a day like this.' Lady Setsu lifted the water-stained hem of her robe off the ground. 'But I suppose the inconvenience couldn't be helped.'
They'd had to pick a location with few people to observe them, where they would be unlikely to meet anyone they knew.
'Will you introduce me to your companion?' Yanagisawa said to Lady Setsu.
She was looking at Yoritomo. The right side of her face wore an involuntary, pained wince. The eye on the normal left side scrutinized Yoritomo closely as she said, 'May I present the Honorable Tsuruhime.'
The young woman stepped forward, graceless and shy. Eyes downcast, she murmured, 'It is a privilege to make your acquaintance.'
'And this must be your son.' Lady Chocho minced over to Yoritomo, beheld him, and gasped. 'You look just like your father! My, you're handsome!'
Yoritomo ducked his head, clearly mortified. Lady Chocho exclaimed, 'Isn't that sweet, he's blushing!' She tittered and pinched his cheek. 'Oh, your skin is so soft! Just like a baby's bottom! If I were younger, I would eat you up!'
Yoritomo cast a pleading glance at Yanagisawa, who sent him a look that warned him not to rebuff Lady Chocho or do anything else that would offend the women.
'Yes, this is my son Yoritomo,' he said.
