suspicions. Since her participation in the case wasn’t public knowledge, and women did visit temples for religious reasons, why should Junketsu-in make this assumption unless she knew about the interview with Haru? “Please let me assist you.”
“I’m here to investigate Haru’s possible role in the arson and murder,” Reiko conceded.
Junketsu-in’s smile widened. Sharp teeth, angled inward, gave her mouth the look of a trap. “I know Haru very well. We can talk in my chambers.” The abbess gestured down a narrow lane.
“Actually, I was hoping to meet Haru’s friends.” Reiko guessed that the temple might wish to keep the investigation focused on Haru, either to protect the person responsible for the fire or to prevent scrutiny of the sect’s business. She couldn’t trust the word of any official who might sacrifice an orphan as an easy scapegoat. “If you’ll just direct me to the orphanage, I needn’t inconvenience you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Junketsu-in said, still smiling, although her gaze hardened. “I’ll be happy to give you whatever information you need.”
She and the nuns surrounded Reiko. It was obvious that they didn’t want her roaming the temple on her own. Briefly, Reiko considered invoking Sano’s authority and commanding Junketsu-in to let her do as she wished. Yet she felt uncomfortable about pretending to act on Sano’s behalf when he didn’t even know she was here. Across the precinct, she saw two of his detectives passing by, but enlisting their aid would put them in the dubious position of having to decide whether helping her constituted disobedience to their master. Also, Reiko knew that antagonizing a sect official could cause trouble for Sano.
“Very well,” Reiko said, letting Junketsu-in escort her down the path. Perhaps she could still learn something of importance.
The path led under the arbors, between tree-shaded buildings past which Junketsu-in hurried Reiko as if not wanting her to get a good look at them or speak to the nuns passing by. “This is the nunnery,” Junketsu-in said, ushering Reiko into a smaller version of the convent at Zojo Temple.
They sat in a plainly furnished chamber upstairs. Sliding doors stood open to a balcony that overlooked the thatched roofs of more buildings. A maid served tea. The nuns knelt like mute sentries in the corners. Now Reiko noticed that the abbess’s gray kimono was made of fine cotton with a subtle pattern of wavy, lighter gray lines instead of plain hemp like the nuns’ robes; she wore spotless white socks in contrast to their bare feet.
“What are the practices of the Black Lotus sect?” Reiko asked, curious to know what rituals had attracted such a large following, and what doctrine allowed the abbess to violate the Buddhist practice of spurning worldly vanity.
“Human existence is full of suffering,” Junketsu-in said in a lofty, pious tone. “This suffering is caused by selfish desire. By ridding ourselves of desire, we can gain release from suffering and reach nirvana. We can only do this by following the right path.”
Reiko recognized these axioms as the Four Noble Truths, the foundation for all forms of Buddhism.
“We believe that every human has the potential to reach nirvana and achieve Buddhahood-the state of supreme enlightenment and supernatural power. Memorizing and chanting the Black Lotus Sutra and meditating on it makes us one with the truth contained therein. The act of chanting harnesses all our life’s activities to the purpose of releasing the power that lies within the realm of the unconscious, where we can grasp the ultimate meaning of the sutra. Understanding occurs in a mystical fusion between worshipper and sutra, and thus we shall attain nirvana and Buddhahood.”
“I’m not familiar with the Black Lotus Sutra,” Reiko said. “Is it related to the famous Lotus Sutra?” That scripture was the basis for other sects. “What does it say?”
“The Black Lotus Sutra is a unique, ancient verse that was discovered by our high priest. It states that the correct path to Buddhahood consists of infinite parallel, intersecting, converging, and diverging paths that unite as one, and that High Priest Anraku, the Bodhisattva of Infinite Power, will show us each the path that we must follow.” The abbess stirred restlessly. “But it is long, complex, and requires much time to recite and extensive study to comprehend. And I believe you wish to know about Haru and the fire?”
“Yes,” Reiko said.
She noted the abbess’s desire to turn the conversation away from the sect, which seemed an amalgam of established religion and new philosophy. The Pure Land sect, governed by Zojo Temple, revered the Pure Land Sutra and believed that constantly invoking the name of Amida, the Buddha of Unlimited Light, helped humans achieve salvation. Zen sects, preferred by many samurai, practiced meditation with the goal of satori, a sudden perception of felt knowledge. The Black Lotus most resembled the Nichiren Shoshu sect, founded some four hundred years ago by a dynamic spiritual leader and still popular with commoners, which chanted the Lotus Sutra to achieve enlightenment. Reiko had read that scripture and knew it did not actually reveal the secret truth, which was indescribable, but that worshippers needn’t understand the words to benefit from chanting them. Presumably, this was also the case with the Black Lotus Sutra. None of the Black Lotus practices sounded extraordinary, and Reiko wondered why Junketsu-in didn’t want to talk about them.
“I’m trying to reconstruct what happened to Haru, starting with the night before the fire, when she went to bed in the orphanage dormitory,” Reiko said. “I want to know if anyone saw her between then and the time when the fire brigade found her.”
Abbess Junketsu-in compressed her mouth in disgust. “Did Haru tell you that she can’t remember anything? Well, I have to warn you against believing what she says, because although Haru can be very appealing, she’s a shady character. If she said she went to bed when she was supposed to, she was lying. Her dishonesty, disobedience, and lack of respect for authority have been a constant problem.
“She’s always breaking rules. She talks during sacred rituals and refuses to do chores. She steals food from the pantry. She’s sloppy, rude, and trespasses in areas where the orphans aren’t allowed.” Disapproval saturated the abbess’s voice. “When she’s scolded for her misbehavior, Haru always denies any wrongdoing. She hates getting up early, so the nuns have to drag her out of bed for morning prayers. At night, she waits until everyone’s asleep and sneaks out of the orphanage. That’s what she did the night before the fire.”
“How do you know?” Reiko was disturbed by this picture of Haru, which was at odds with her own impression of the girl, and Haru’s portrayal of herself as a grateful orphan who loved her benefactors and got along well with everyone. The abbess’s claim that Haru had deliberately left the dormitory contradicted Haru’s version of events. Yet Reiko wondered whether Junketsu-in’s eagerness to blacken Haru’s reputation meant that the abbess had a personal stake in turning Reiko against Haru. “Did you see her?”
“No,” Junketsu-in said. “It’s not my duty to watch over the orphans.” She spoke with haughty disdain. “But the temple guards have caught Haru roaming the grounds after dark. Twice they found her consorting with male novices. This has raised serious doubts as to whether Haru is suited for religious life. That’s why she hasn’t yet entered the convent.”
The abbess laughed, a malicious trill. “I don’t suppose Haru told you why she lives in the orphanage with the children even though she’s a grown woman and old enough to be a nun.”
Nor had Reiko noticed the oddity of this circumstance. She’d considered Haru a child, and therefore hadn’t even wondered why she hadn’t taken religious vows as she’d expressed wanting to do. Reiko knew that unmarried lower-class girls did engage in sex, and she remembered Haru’s mature body, but the idea of Haru wantonly seducing young men shocked Reiko. Could the abbess be telling the truth about Haru? Had Reiko missed other significant facts during the interview? Maybe her detective skills had been dulled by the long hiatus from such work.
Hiding her dismay, Reiko said evenly, “I shall need other witnesses to confirm Haru’s alleged misbehavior.”
“There are four right here in this room.” Abbess Junketsu-in gestured at the nuns seated in the corners; they unflinchingly met Reiko’s gaze.
How convenient, Reiko thought. Obedient subordinates weren’t exactly independent witnesses, and Junketsu- in’s reluctance to let her seek others strengthened her suspicions about the abbess. “While the behavior you describe is unsuitable for a prospective nun, the information you’ve given me has no direct bearing on the arson,” she said, noting that she had no more reason to doubt Haru than Junketsu-in.
The abbess said with an air of smug triumph, “A nun in charge of the orphans told me that she checked on them during the night before the fire, and Haru wasn’t in bed.” Junketsu-in smiled at Reiko’s frown. “I’m not surprised that Haru has fooled you. She’s quite an accomplished liar. If she says she’s lost her memory of that night, it’s because she was up to no good and trying to hide the truth.”
