arched over the castle. The sun melted the snow on the roofs, but the intense cold froze the dripping water into icicles that glittered on the eaves. The snow in the roads turned grimy under the horses’ hooves. But in spite of the weather, the treasury minister emerged from the shelter of his house to meet Sano’s party as soon as it reached the front door.
“Sosakan-sama. How dare you send troops to invade my home and wake me up in the middle of the night?” He gestured at Sano’s men, standing guard in the courtyard. “This is an execrable offense.”
Nitta was a pallid, gaunt samurai whom Sano knew to be fifty years of age, though he seemed older because of his prematurely silver hair. Silver brows bristled over eyes that seemed too dark in contrast; ire compressed a mouth so thin that it appeared lipless. Clad in a kimono, surcoat, and trousers in shades of gray, he looked like a figure in a monochrome painting. He stood on the veranda, hands on his hips and feet pointed outward, glowering down at Sano.
“Would you now kindly explain why you have placed my entire household under arrest?” he said.
“I apologize for the disturbance.” Sano bowed low, as did his men. “But I need to question you regarding the murder of Lord Mitsuyoshi.”
“Murder? Lord Mitsuyoshi?” Surprise inflected Nitta’s high-pitched voice and sharpened his eyes. “How and where did it happen?”
Sano explained, wondering if the treasury minister’s reaction was genuine, or feigned. Then Nitta’s expression turned disdainful.
“And you obviously consider me a suspect. How ridiculous. Well, I suppose you are desperate to find the culprit, but there was no need for you to treat me, or my family, in such a rude manner.”
Yet Sano saw fear beneath his disdain. Nitta was clearly aware that the murder of the shogun’s heir, and a visit from Sano in connection with the murder, posed him great danger. “I did not kill Lord Mitsuyoshi,” Nitta declared, “and all I know about his death is what you’ve just told me.”
“If that’s the case, then we can conclude this matter quickly.” Sano kept his manner deferential, because if Nitta proved not to be the murderer, he could become a formidable enemy. Nitta could retaliate by withholding the treasury funds that financed Sano’s detective corps and investigations. Yet if Sano hadn’t placed Nitta under guard, he would have opened himself to accusations of leniency toward a suspect-and allowed Police Commissioner Hoshina to interrogate Nitta first. It had been a difficult choice, and Sano hoped he’d made the right one.
“Take yourself and your thugs away,” Nitta said. “I shall let you know when an interview is convenient for me.”
Sano stood his ground. “I have my orders to investigate the murder with all due haste. And I respectfully advise you to cooperate, because otherwise, you’ll displease our lord.”
The treasury minister’s dark eyes flared like live coals; then a guise of indifference veiled their angry light. He said, “Come inside.”
In the reception room of the estate, screens painted with lush green forest landscapes enclosed an area around a sunken brazier, sealed out cold drafts, and created the illusion of a warmer season. There, Nitta performed the ritual of welcoming Sano and serving tea with an elaborate courtesy that conveyed his antipathy more clearly than could blatant insults. They sat opposite each other, tea bowls in their hands, and Nitta’s contemptuous gaze challenged Sano to speak.
“Please describe what you did the day before yesterday,” Sano said, “beginning with your arrival in Yoshiwara.”
“It was late evening when my men and I got there. We went to the Owariya because I had an engagement with a courtesan.” Nitta’s statement had an artificial, rehearsed quality; he spoke in the tightly modulated voice of a man conscious that a wrong word could doom him. “Upon arriving at the Owariya, I learned that the courtesan had been requested by another man, and I was asked to yield my appointment. I complied, and my men and I joined a party in the ageya. But after awhile, I recalled some business in town that needed my attention the next morning, so I decided to leave. I paid the Yoshiwara guards to let my men and myself out the gate.”
He added, “Bribing the guards and leaving Yoshiwara after curfew are but minor, common transgressions of the law. They do not implicate me in murder.”
That the treasury minister had omitted compromising details from his recitation intrigued Sano. That Nitta would expect him to believe this limited version of events, and never find out that there was more to the story, insulted his professional honor and goaded Sano to speak boldly.
“What does implicate you are the facts you left out of your story,” he said, and watched caution hood Nitta’s expression. “Or were you going to tell me that the man to whom you yielded your appointment was Lord Mitsuyoshi?”
“I did not consider that fact important.” Nitta calmly sipped from his tea bowl. “Preemption of appointments is common in Yoshiwara, and it would be absurd to think that a man would kill someone for doing him out of one night with a woman.”
“Men have killed because of rivalry over courtesans,” Sano said, remembering duels fought during recent years. “And in this case, the courtesan was Lady Wisteria, the woman you love so much that you reserve her company every night because you’re jealous of her other clients.”
Nitta flapped a hand in impatient dismissal. “Some folk have nothing to do but spread foolish, inaccurate gossip. While it’s true that I did go to see Lady Wisteria that night, and I am her patron, she is just a prostitute, and only one of many that I use.” A brief, vain smile quirked his lipless mouth, and Sano recognized him as the kind of old man who liked to flaunt his sexual potency and needed young, beautiful women to feed his pride. “Wisteria is not an object of my love or jealousy. You should know better than to believe everything you hear.”
Sano felt his patience slipping; his ire flared as it had last night, when the shogun had berated him. He willed himself to remain calm, because losing his temper with a suspect would harm his investigation, and he didn’t want to antagonize Nitta any more than necessary. “So you didn’t care if Wisteria entertained Lord Mitsuyoshi instead of you?” he said.
“Her business was of little consequence to me.”
“You weren’t angry at Lord Mitsuyoshi for taking your place?”
“Not in the least.” Nitta set down his tea bowl and rose. Turning away from Sano, he faced the painted forest on a screen, his shoulders rigid.
“Then why were you so upset about yielding to Lord Mitsuyoshi that you argued with the proprietor of the ageya?”
Nitta whirled, his face suddenly taut with alarm. “Who told you?” Sudden, angry enlightenment flickered in his eyes. “Senior Elder Makino, that old sneak. He was at the party. He must have been eavesdropping, the way he often does.” Though Sano gave no sign of confirmation, Nitta nodded in certainty. “Well, I must warn you against listening to anything Makino says about me. Some years ago, he asked me for a huge loan from the treasury. I declined because his credit is bad. Ever since then, Makino and I have been enemies.”
Had Makino consequently lied to frame the treasury minister? Sano had heard nothing of a feud between the pair, and feuds involving such high officials were hard to keep secret. However, Nitta had a reputation as one of the few honest men in a corrupt bureaucracy.
“I did argue with the proprietor of the ageya,” Nitta said, “but not because I was upset about Wisteria or angry at Lord Mitsuyoshi. My concern was strictly financial. I had paid Wisteria’s fee for the night, and so had Lord Mitsuyoshi. I asked the proprietor for a refund, but he insisted on keeping both fees because it’s the custom.” Nitta puckered his mouth, as if at an unpleasant taste. “I lost my temper with the greedy lout. After I threatened to close down his establishment, he agreed to give me my next appointment free, to compensate for the one I’d lost.”
Sano began to doubt the treasury minister’s veracity and put more faith in Senior Elder Makino because this story seemed so implausible. The samurai class disdained money as sordid and beneath their dignity, and a man of Nitta’s wealth and position shouldn’t have minded losing a much greater sum than the price of a tayu, let alone quibbled over it.
“What did you do after the argument?” Sano asked.
“I stayed for a few drinks. Around midnight, I went home.”
“You walked out of the ageya and straight to the gate, you bribed the guards, then left Yoshiwara?”
Nitta’s gaze turned wary and speculative, as though he was trying to determine how much Sano already knew. Sano kept his countenance opaque. After a moment, Nitta gave a faint grimace, signaling his capitulation to Sano’s bluff.
