watched. She might lack detective experience, but she knew instinctively that she’d at last found the right use for her talents.
“Stop!” she commanded her escorts.
The procession halted, and Reiko alit from the palanquin. As she hurried down the street, her escorts tried to follow. But Reiko soon lost them in the crowd, which was composed mainly of women, like flocks of chattering birds in their gay kimonos. These shops sold beauty potions and hair ornaments, makeup and perfume, wigs and fans. The few men present were shopkeepers, clerks, or ladies’ escorts. Reiko ducked under the indigo doorway curtain of Soseki, a popular dealer of unguents, and stepped inside.
The showroom, lit by barred windows and open skylights, contained shelves, cabinets, and bins of every imaginable beautifying substance: medicinal balms, hair oils and dyes, soap, and blemish removers, as well as brushes and sponges for applying them. Clerks waited on their female customers. Reiko left her shoes in the entryway, then moved through the crowded aisles. She halted at the bath-oil display.
There stood a woman in her late thirties, wearing the blue kimono of a joro-second-rank palace official. Thin to the point of emaciation, hair piled atop her head, she addressed the clerk in an authoritative manner. “I’ll take ten bottles each of the pine, jasmine, gardenia, almond, and orange-scented oils.”
The clerk wrote up the order. Gathering her attendants, the joro prepared to leave. Reiko approached.
“Good morning, Cousin Eri-san,” she said, bowing.
This was a distant relative from her mother’s side of the family, once concubine to the last shogun, Iemitsu. Now Eri was in charge of supplying the personal needs of the women’s quarters, and thus a minor functionary whom Sano would no doubt relegate to the bottom of his list of witnesses. But Reiko knew that Eri was also the center of the Edo Castle branch of the female gossip network. Through the servants, Reiko had traced Eri to Soseki, and she meant to benefit from her cousin’s knowledge. Still, Reiko addressed Eri with cautious diffidence.
“Might I please have a word with you?” Since her mother’s death, the Ueda clan had maintained infrequent contact with Eri’s family. Eri’s position had further isolated her, and Reiko guessed that she might resent a younger, prettier, and well-married relative.
But Eri greeted Reiko with a gasp of delight. “Reiko-chan! It’s been such a long time. You were just a little girl the last time I saw you; now you’re all grown up. And married, too!” A former beauty, Eri had lost her youthful good looks. Middle age showed in the gray roots of her dyed hair and the gaunt planes of her face. Yet the warmth of her eyes and smile was undiminished. When Eri looked at you, Reiko remembered, you felt special, as though you had her complete interest. No doubt this was how she’d charmed her lord-and how she got people to tell her secrets. Now Eri said, “Come along, where we can talk in private.”
Soon they were settled comfortably in a back room of the shop, with sake, dried fruit, and cakes supplied by the proprietor. Since high-ranking ladies couldn’t drink in public teahouses or eat at food stalls, many establishments in this district provided areas in which customers could refresh themselves. These rooms, where men were not allowed, often served as stations for the exchange of gossip. Through the paper walls, Reiko could see other women’s shadows, hear their chatter and giggles.
“Now tell me everything that’s new with you,” Eri said, pouring them each a cup of heated liquor.
Soon Reiko had told her cousin all about the wedding, what gifts she’d received, and how her new home was furnished. She only just managed to stop herself before revealing her troubles with Sano, marveling at Eri’s talent for extracting personal information. What a fine detective she would make! But Reiko couldn’t afford to go away having told more than she’d learned.
“I’m very interested in the murder of Lady Harume,” she said, nibbling a dried apricot. “What do you know about it?”
Sipping from her cup, Eri hesitated. “Your husband is investigating the murder, isn’t he?” A sudden wariness cooled her manner, and Reiko sensed Eri’s distrust of men in general, and the bakufu in particular. “Did he send you to question me?”
“No,” Reiko confessed. “He ordered me to stay out of the investigation. He doesn’t know I’m here, and he would be furious if he did. But I want to solve the mystery. I want to prove that a woman can be as good a detective as a man. Will you help me?”
A mischievous sparkle lit Eri’s eyes. She nodded, then held up a hand. “First you must promise to tell me everything you can learn about your husband’s progress on the case.”
“Done.” Reiko suppressed a twinge of guilt over her disloyalty toward Sano. Fair was fair; she must pay the price of the information she needed-and by refusing her assistance, hadn’t Sano earned the punishment of having his activities known to every woman in Edo? Even as the memory of her desire for him fluttered Reiko’s heart, determination steeled her resolve. She reported the news gleaned from the maids who eavesdropped on Sano’s detectives while cleaning the barracks: “Today my husband interviews Lieutenant Kushida and Lady Ichiteru. Could they have poisoned Harume?”
“The women in the Large Interior are laying bets that one or the other did,” Eri said, 'with most of them favoring Lady Ichiteru.”
“Why is that?”
Eri smiled sadly. “Concubines and ladies-in-waiting are young. Romantic. Naive. The plight of a rejected suitor touches their soft little hearts. They don’t understand how a man can love a woman as much as Kushida did Lady Harume, and at the same time hate her enough to kill her.”
“But there must be evidence that has persuaded other women to believe Kushida is guilty?”
“My, you sound just like a police officer, Reiko-chan. Your husband is a fool not to accept your help.” Eri laughed. “Well, I’ll tell you something he probably doesn’t know and won’t find out. The day before Lieutenant Kushida was suspended, a guard caught him in Lady Harume’s room. He had his hands in the cabinet where she kept her undergarments. Apparently Kushida was stealing them.”
Or planting the poison? Reiko wondered.
“The incident was never reported,” Eri continued. “Kushida is the guard’s commanding officer, and he forced the man to keep quiet. No one would have known about it, except that a maid overheard them arguing and told me. The guard will never talk, because he could lose his post if the palace administration found out he protected someone who broke the rules.” Eri paused. “And I never spread the story because Kushida had never made trouble before, and it seemed like a minor, harmless thing. Now I wish I’d gone to Madam Chizuru. If I had, Harume might not have died.”
Through Eri’s excuses, Reiko saw her real reason for keeping silent: Despite her worldly experience, her heart was as soft as those of the young concubines; she also sympathized with Lieutenant Kushida. But she’d established his opportunity for murder.
“Why is Lady Ichiteru considered the better suspect?” Reiko asked.
Eri’s mouth tightened; she evidently disliked the concubine as much as she pitied Kushida. “Ichiteru hides her emotions well-from her manner, you’d never guess that she felt anything toward Harume besides disgust for a lowly peasant. She’ll never admit how furious she was when the shogun stopped sleeping with her because he preferred Harume.
“But one day last summer, the ladies went on an outing to Kannei Temple. I was rounding them up for the trip home, when I heard screams in the woods. I hurried over and found Ichiteru and Harume on the ground, fighting. Ichiteru was on top of Harume, hitting her, shouting that she would kill Harume before she took Ichiteru’s place as the shogun’s favorite. I pulled them apart. Their clothes were dirty, their faces scratched and bloody. Harume was crying, and Ichiteru mad with rage. I separated them, then told everyone they’d hurt themselves by falling down in the woods.”
“And this incident wasn’t reported, either?”
Eri shook her head. “I might have lost my post for failing to keep order among my charges. Ichiteru didn’t want anyone to know she’d behaved in such an undignified manner. And Harume was afraid of getting into trouble.”
In Reiko’s opinion, Lady Ichiteru had a much clearer motive for murder than Lieutenant Kushida. The concubine had also threatened Harume, and might have followed up the attack by poisoning her. “Did anyone see Lady Ichiteru in or near Harume’s room shortly before she died?”
“When I asked the women, they all said no. But that doesn’t mean Ichiteru wasn’t there. She could have sneaked in when no one was looking. And she has friends who would lie for her.”
Motive, and possible opportunity, Reiko decided. Lady Ichiteru was looking better and better as a suspect, but to prove her guilt, Reiko needed a witness, or evidence. “Can you let me talk to the other women and help me
