Alone in her room, she told herself it couldn’t be Sano who had died; she would have sensed if anything had happened to him. But wouldn’t he know she would hear the spirit cry? Wouldn’t he send a message to reassure her? Dread mounted in Reiko. The inn quieted as the other guests settled down to sleep, and in the stillness, the thudding of her heart echoed in her ears. The room was hot, but Reiko’s hands turned cold from an inner chill. She thought of sending one of Sano’s guards into the palace for news, then reconsidered. She wanted to know, yet she did not want to know.
Time dragged on. Then Reiko heard footsteps approaching her room. She threw open the door. There stood Detective Fukida. One look at his haggard face told her what she’d been dreading. She had a sensation of a black void absorbing all the light and warmth and joy in the world.
“No,” she whispered.
“We were on our way to see the emperor.” The young samurai’s voice trembled. “The killer ambushed us inside the palace, and-”
“No, it’s impossible. When he left, he said he would see me later.” Reiko heard herself forestalling the inevitable truth. She backed away from Fukida, glancing wildly around the room. “His things are still here. He can’t be-” She could not make herself say it.
Fukida came to her and grasped her hands. Because he would never touch his master’s wife under ordinary circumstances, the gesture convinced Reiko and pierced her heart. She pulled her hands out of Fukida’s and hunched low, arms clasped around herself.
“Honorable Lady Reiko, I’m sorry,” Fukida said, looking ready to weep. “Your husband is dead.”
“Where is he?” Now Reiko experienced a consuming need to be with Sano. Although she remained outwardly calm, emotion began building inside her, as if her spirit stood in the path of a violent storm. “Take me there.”
Fukida shook his head. “I can’t,” he said wretchedly. “There was such great injury to him…” The young detective gulped, then continued: “Before he died, he used his last breath to order me to spare you the sight of him. I’m sorry.”
“But I’m his wife. You can’t keep me away.” The storm inside Reiko gathered power; she could hear the gusting winds of grief and the thunder of outrage coming closer, and see the turbulent black clouds of despair lowering upon her. “Where is he? I demand that you take me to my husband immediately!”
Now the storm overpowered Reiko. Falling to her knees, she howled, “No. No. No!” Raised in samurai tradition, she’d been trained to value stoicism and practice self-control, but this terrible moment taught her that training was inadequate preparation for tragedy. She didn’t care if she compromised her dignity. With her beloved husband dead, what did social standards of behavior matter anymore?
Through the tears that streamed from her eyes, she saw Fukida standing by, helpless and shamefaced. He said, “I’ll get help,” then fled. Soon Reiko’s maids came. They hugged her, murmuring words of comfort that she barely heard above her own sobs and moans. They held her still while a local physician poured a bitter liquid down her throat. It must have been a sleeping potion, because the world grew hazy, and Reiko drifted into unconsciousness.
Temple bells tolled the next hour, and the next, while Sano and Marume waited for Yoriki Hoshina. At last Sano heard brisk footsteps cross the courtyard and mount the wooden stairs to the veranda. He stood in the shadow of the cabinet, braced for action. The front door opened. Now the shadow of a second figure appeared opposite Marume’s on the paper partition.
“Ah, Marume-san,” said Hoshina’s voice. “The sentries just told me you were here. I’m sorry you had such a long wait, but after I finished at the palace, I had to go to the shoshidai’s mansion to report what had happened.”
Both shadows bowed; Hoshina’s knelt. Marume said, “It’s I who should apologize for coming here without notice.”
“Under the circumstances, formality is unnecessary,” Hoshina said in a kind, forgiving tone. He obviously had no idea that he and Marume weren’t alone. “My condolences on the murder of your master.”
“Thank you,” Marume said sadly. “That’s why I’m here.”
“If you wish to take over the investigation, I’ll do everything in my power to help you identify the killer and obtain justice for the sosakan-sama.” Hoshina’s sincerity grated on Sano’s nerves. The yoriki acted the part of the sympathetic, dutiful subordinate with perfection, no doubt rejoicing all the while.
“Well, I’m glad you’re so willing to help,” Marume said, his voice cheerful now, “because here’s your big chance.”
Sano stepped around the partition, into the parlor. “Good evening, Hoshina-san.”
Shock widened the yoriki’s eyes. “Sosakan-sama,” he said. “But I thought-”
Aware of Hoshina’s part in the plot against him, Sano was gratified by his reaction. He permitted himself a sardonic smile. “You thought I was dead? Of course you did, after coming from the scene of my murder.”
Hoshina rose, staring at Sano. Marume stood, too, surreptitiously moving between Hoshina and the door. Hoshina shook his head in disbelief. “But I saw your body, and your blood on the ground, and Detective Fukida grieving over you.”
“Obviously, you and your men didn’t see any need to look at the face of the corpse,” Sano said, glad that his prediction of the police’s behavior had proved accurate. “That was a stupid mistake for someone as smart as you think you are.”
The insult brought a scowl to Hoshina’s face. His breathing quickened and his mouth worked as he struggled to get his emotions under control and understand what had happened. “If you didn’t die at the palace, then who did?” he asked.
“It was Aisu,” Sano said.
He saw instant recognition of the name in the yoriki’s gaze, then fear. But Hoshina quickly masked his response with a bewildered expression. “Who on earth is Aisu?”
“He was a high-ranking bakufu retainer from Edo. You may have met him during the past few days.”
“… No, I don’t believe so.” Hoshina frowned in a studied attempt at remembering, then said, “I’m sorry; I’ve never even heard of the man.” But the energy of racing thoughts and mounting distress radiated from him. “What was this Aisu doing in Miyako?”
“You tell me,” Sano said.
Hoshina gave a nervous chuckle. “How can I, when I didn’t know him?” Then he spread his arms as if to embrace Sano, and said earnestly, “Look, I’m overjoyed to see you alive and well. But why have you let everyone think you dead?”
Sano’s plan required the clement of surprise, which had already unbalanced Yoriki Hoshina, and which he hoped to employ to even greater advantage soon.
“Why did you sneak into my quarters?” Hoshina added.
Ignoring the questions, Sano said, “Where is he?”
“Where is who?” Hoshina spoke in a tone of puzzled innocence, but his gaze shifted furtively.
“Chamberlain Yanagisawa,” said Sano.
“The shogun’s second-in-command? In Edo, I suppose. How would I know?”
Marume laughed in derisive amusement. “You’re a pretty good actor. Maybe you should have chosen a career in the Kabuki theater instead of with the police force, because then you wouldn’t be in as much trouble as you are now. Answer the sosakan-sama’s question.”
“I assure you that I would if I could,” Hoshina said. Anger and panic shone through the transparent veil of his courtesy; his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “If you’re threatening me, I don’t understand why. Maybe I could be of more help if someone explained what’s going on.”
Sano was growing impatient with Hoshina’s false innocence, but he found a certain satisfaction in laying out what he’d deduced. “Yanagisawa wants to solve the mystery of Left Minister Konoe’s death and destroy my reputation as a detective and my standing with the shogun by beating me at my own game. He won’t risk a public defeat, so he came to Miyako secretly. But he can’t identify the killer without information about the victim, the crime scene, and the suspects that he couldn’t get for himself while staying hidden. He also intends to benefit from whatever leads I find.
“Therefore, he needs someone to feed him facts and inform him on my progress. Someone inside the local bakufu, with expertise in investigating crimes, upon whose assistance I would rely. Someone he could trust to
