Excellency. During the past few months there have been fires in the Suruga, Nihonbashi, and Kanda districts, causing thirty-four deaths.” The old man glanced at Makino. “We fear that the fires may be related to the one at the Black Lotus Temple.”
Sano was alarmed by this theory that the Black Lotus fire might be the latest work of a habitual arsonist. However, he deduced that it was Makino who had planted it in the minds of the elders and brought them here to help make Sano’s failure to solve the case seem more reprehensible.
“I thank the city elders for the news,” Sano said evenly. “While there’s no evidence that the Black Lotus fire involves anyone or any place outside the temple, I shall certainly check into the possibility.”
“That sounds like a good, ahh, plan,” the shogun ventured, as if afraid to contribute his opinion to an argument he didn’t understand.
A flicker of annoyance in Makino’s eyes acknowledged that his ploy hadn’t worked the way he’d hoped. “You exhibit an astonishing indifference to the concerns of our citizens, sosakan-sama. Perhaps you do not care about their safety. Is that why you’re taking so long with your inquiries?”
The shogun frowned in confusion, but Sano felt his lord’s approval swaying toward Makino. Sano said, “A thorough investigation requires time. Perhaps the Honorable Senior Elder would prefer that the job be done poorly?”
“An honorable man does not evade the blame for his mistakes.” Although Makino’s expression didn’t change, anger radiated from him. “Nor does a good detective ignore what is before his eyes. The orphan girl is the obvious culprit, but she hasn’t been arrested yet. She’s free to set more fires and kill again.”
The other council members nodded. The abbot gave Sano a sympathetic glance. Indecision puckered the shogun’s brow.
“The evidence against Haru is a matter of circumstance and hearsay,” Sano said, forced to defend the girl despite his suspicion of her. “There’s no proof of her guilt.”
“Why do you need proof when a confession would suffice? Are you saying that you’re incapable of getting the truth out of a fifteen-year-old female peasant?” Makino emitted a cackle of laughter. “Perhaps you need a lesson in interrogation techniques.”
Sano swallowed a sharp retort that would demonstrate bad manners and offend the shogun. “If Haru didn’t commit the crimes, then torturing her would do us no good and her much undeserved harm. Executing an innocent person won’t serve justice or protect the public.”
“Yes, you must, ahh, protect the public.” The shogun echoed Sano’s words with the breathless relief of a man who has just run a long distance to catch up to his comrades.
Sano watched Makino hide his chagrin by puffing on his tobacco pipe.
“Therefore, you should have arrested Haru long ago,” the shogun continued, giving Sano a reproachful look. “Your, ahh, procrastination makes the bakufu look weak. We cannot afford to let the citizens think they can get away with, ahh, murder. Haru should have already been punished as an, ahh, example of what happens to anyone who breaks the law. I am extremely disappointed in you, Sosakan Sano.”
Anxiety filled Sano as he saw Makino’s veiled glee. He said carefully, “I’m sorry, Your Excellency. Please be assured that I have the bakufu’s interests at heart. Please allow me to point out that we could lose tremendous face if more fires and murders occurred after Haru’s execution because the real culprit escaped justice.”
“Ahh.”
Comprehension brightened Tsunayoshi’s face. Makino’s ugly features darkened. Everyone else gazed at the floor.
Then the shogun said, “However, I must demand action, Sosakan Sano. Either prove that the girl is guilty, or find out who is. Otherwise I shall put someone else in charge of the, ahh, investigation.” The shogun looked around the room, and his gaze settled upon Makino.
The senior elder’s humble bow didn’t hide his satisfaction.
“If you do not produce results immediately,” the shogun continued to Sano, “I shall also have to reconsider your, ahh, position at court.”
Makino flashed a triumphant look at Sano, who realized with dismay that this case could destroy his career. He also understood that the surest way to save it was to prove that Haru was guilty, and do it fast.
“Dismissed,” the shogun said, waving his fan at the assembly.
Back at his mansion, Sano summoned four detectives to his private office and said, “I have a new assignment for you: secret surveillance on the Black Lotus sect.”
He’d picked these men because they hadn’t been part of the arson investigation yet, and they weren’t known at the temple. Now he turned to Kanryu and Hachiya, former police officers some years his senior. “You two will disguise yourselves as pilgrims and loiter around the temple.”
“What are we looking for?” said Kanryu. His sleepy appearance concealed a talent for spying.
When Sano related the novice monk’s story, the detective exchanged glances with Hachiya, a muscular man whose friendly disposition inspired trust, often to the detriment of people with something to hide. The pair bowed to Sano, observing the samurai tradition of unquestioning obedience to their master, but he sensed their skepticism.
“I know it sounds unbelievable,” he said, “but if there is anything wrong at the temple that may have any bearing on the arson and murders, we need to know.” To the two other detectives he said, “I want you to infiltrate the sect.”
The two men, Takeo and Tadao, were brothers in their late teens, from a family of hereditary Tokugawa vassals, apprentices to Sano. They shared similar daring spirits and handsome faces. Now they listened attentively as Sano said, “You’ll pose as religious youths who want to enter the Black Lotus monastery. Get accepted as novices and find out what goes on inside.”
“Yes, master,” Takeo and Tadao chorused, bowing.
“Kanryu-san, you’re in charge of the surveillance,” Sano said. “Report to me on everyone’s progress.”
“Will you be at the temple today?” Kanryu asked as the detectives prepared to leave.
After a moment’s hesitation, Sano said, “Later, perhaps. I’ve got some business to take care of.”
Kojimachi district occupied the central ridge of Edo, just west of the castle, along the road that led to Yotsuya, home of the secondary branches of the Tokugawa clan. Here, in a narrow corridor between the compounds of Tokugawa daimyo and retainers, commoners plied their trades. Merchants sold and delivered food; restaurants and teahouses served travelers; Hirakawa Tenjin Shrine hosted one of Edo ’s few evening markets. Behind the businesses thrived a populous residential area.
As Sano rode past a shop redolent of fermenting miso, light rain fell from the gray sky; umbrellas sprouted in the crowds around him. Trepidation weighed upon his spirit. He’d promised Reiko that he would personally investigate the Black Lotus, and sending detectives instead seemed a betrayal of her trust. And he hadn’t told her that he was going to check Haru’s background. Although he deemed this necessary for assessing the girl’s character, he didn’t want Reiko to think he lacked faith in her judgment or was persecuting Haru.
Still, he must determine to his own satisfaction whether Haru was guilty, so he could either arrest her and satisfy the shogun and the public, or develop other leads if she was innocent. Perhaps what he learned at her birthplace would put him and Reiko on the same side of the case.
The road led Sano to Kojimachi’s most famous landmark: the hunters’ market. Stalls sold the meat of wild boar, deer, monkey, bear, and fowl from the mountains outside Edo. Customers and vendors haggled; flies buzzed around carcasses hung on hooks or spread on pallets; the air reeked of blood and decay. Buddhist religion prohibited the eating of meat, with one exception: for medicinal purposes. Some diseases could be cured only by consuming stews or elixirs made from animals. Farther down the road stood the popular restaurant named Yamasakana- “Mountain Fish”-which served these remedies.
In a row of low, attached buildings near Yamasakana, Sano saw a noodle restaurant. This must be the establishment once owned by Haru’s family. Short indigo curtains hanging from the eaves sheltered a raised wooden floor where diners could sit. At this hour-midway between the morning and noon meals-the restaurant was empty, but the sliding wooden doors stood open. As Sano dismounted and tied his horse to a pillar, he heard pans rattling in the kitchen at the rear; charcoal smoke wafted out. The moneylenders who had seized the restaurant as
