to Edo Castle to report it to the metsuke.
“To go from renegade policeman on a personal crusade to Most Honorable Investigator for His Excellency is no small accomplishment,” Toda said. “That you’ve kept the post for four years is a miracle, considering all the troubles you’ve had.”
“Is it any more a miracle than that you’ve kept your post in spite of all your troubles?” Sano couldn’t resist saying.
Toda had disbelieved Sano’s story about the plot, and later, the shogun had punished the entire metsuke for failing to take the threat seriously. Agents had been demoted, banished, and executed, yet Toda had somehow survived. Sano suspected that Toda knew the secrets of many members of the bakufu’s upper echelon, and had blackmailed them into protecting him.
Now Toda smiled complacently. “We’ve both been fortunate,” he said.
“Good fortune is an impermanent condition,” Sano said, “but perhaps we can maintain ours by working together.”
Toda’s expression didn’t change, but Sano felt the man’s resistance to the hint that he’d better grant the favor Sano was about to ask. Metsuke agents had a habit of hoarding facts. They liked to know things that others didn’t, they jealously guarded their unique power, and they wanted sole credit for keeping Japan under the bakufu’s control. But sometimes their habit backfired on them.
After the Black Lotus crisis, a disturbing fact had come to light: The metsuke possessed years of records that described the sect’s illegal practices, yet had not only failed to prevent the sect from gaining an immense, dangerous following but had withheld their records from the Minister of Temples and Shrines, who’d tried to thwart the Black Lotus and asked the metsuke’s help. Further investigation revealed sect members within the ranks of the metsuke. Toda had survived the purge that ensued, but even he wasn’t invincible. The murder of Lord Mitsuyoshi was such a politically sensitive issue that for Toda to refuse to cooperate with Sano’s investigation equaled suicide.
“What can I do for you?” Toda said with weary capitulation.
“Let’s start with Treasury Minister Nitta,” Sano said.
The agent looked around the office, then rose and said, “Let’s go elsewhere, shall we?”
Soon they were walking along the Edo Castle racetrack. In summer, this was the scene of samurai riding horses at a furious pace, while palace officials cheered. But now the track was a bare strip of earth, the benches vacant; only a faint smell of manure lingered. An empty meadow, surrounded by pine trees and stone walls, isolated Sano and Toda.
“Is it true that Nitta embezzles from the treasury?” Sano said.
Toda looked as though he’d guessed what Sano would say, but frowned, nonetheless perturbed. “Where did you hear that?”
“Nitta seems to have mentioned it to Lady Wisteria, who told another client,” Sano said.
“Well, he’s the subject of a highly confidential investigation,” Toda said. “I’m surprised that Nitta would incriminate himself, but men are sometimes careless about what they tell courtesans.”
“Then Nitta was embezzling,” Sano inferred.
Toda nodded, gazing over the walls at the rooftops of the palace stables. A flock of crows perched in the pine trees. “There have been discrepancies between tributes sent from the provinces and the money in the treasury accounts. After we investigated, our suspicion settled on Nitta. He’d always been honest before, but Yoshiwara is an expensive habit. We placed him under secret surveillance and observed him taking gold from the storehouse at night. He alters the entries in the account books to hide the missing money.”
The agent gave Sano a sharp glance. “How does Nitta’s embezzlement fit into the murder case? Is he a likelier suspect because of it?”
“That’s possible,” Sano said. “Maybe he killed Wisteria because he regretted telling her about his embezzlement and wanted to prevent her from reporting him. Even if she didn’t have proof, and she was just a prostitute, her accusation could have hurt him.”
“Perhaps Wisteria told Lord Mitsuyoshi,” said Toda. “In his hands, the knowledge could have been most dangerous to Nitta because he and Mitsuyoshi were on bad terms. Nitta wrote a report about how much money Lord Mitsuyoshi squandered and sent it to his family. His father was shocked by his extravagance, and cut his allowance. Mitsuyoshi blamed Nitta for impoverishing him. He believed Nitta did it so he couldn’t afford appointments with Wisteria.”
They reached the end of the racetrack and turned, retracing their steps. The crows swooped over the meadow like black kites, their caws loud in the still air. Sano pondered the fact that Toda had just contradicted the treasury minister’s claim that he didn’t love Wisteria and wasn’t jealous of her other clients, but confirmed Senior Elder Makino’s statement. “Then you think Nitta killed Mitsuyoshi and Wisteria both?”
“He could be behind the murder and her disappearance,” Toda said, “but he’s not the type to dirty his hands by stabbing a man or abducting a woman.”
“Could his retainers have done the dirty work?” Sano said.
“Unlikely. They’re loyal to Nitta, but I doubt if their obedience extends to murdering the shogun’s heir. Nitta has a wide acquaintance among the ruffians he meets in Yoshiwara. If I were you, I’d look into them.”
Sano would. Yet he had misgivings about the scenario he and Toda had devised. “If Wisteria was murdered in her room, there should have been some evidence of it, but I found no indication that anyone except Mitsuyoshi had died there. If she was abducted then killed someplace else, where is her body?”
“I understand you’re still searching the area around Yoshiwara, and along the highways,” Toda said.
“We’ve yet to find a corpse.”
“She could have been dumped in the Sumida River, the Sanya Canal, or one of the smaller waterways.”
But Sano’s instincts told him that Wisteria was alive, and he had additional reason to discount the likelihood of her murder. The pillow book provided a scenario that didn’t involve the treasury minister, and indicated that Wisteria’s disappearance had been a voluntary elopement. However, Sano understood that even if the book was genuine, and Lady Wisteria had written the truth in the pages he’d read, they were only part of the whole book. Perhaps the unnamed lover from Hokkaido was just as possessive toward Wisteria and jealous of her clients as Nitta seemed. Perhaps he’d murdered the last client she’d entertained before they left Yoshiwara.
“You might be interested to know that Treasury Minister Nitta was arrested early this morning,” Toda said.
“What?” Sano halted in surprise.
“For his embezzlement,” Toda explained. “By now, his trial should be underway.” With a sly smile, Toda added, “If you need any further information from him, you’d best get over to Magistrate Aoki’s Court of Justice.”
“But my investigation isn’t finished. Nitta can’t be tried now.” Sano knew what would happen to the treasury minister. That Nitta had earned his fate didn’t ease Sano’s horror. Sano urgently beseeched Toda, “Please call off the trial!”
“I’m sorry, but the matter is out of my hands.” Shrugging, Toda contemplated the crows. They alighted in a black horde in the meadow, where they squawked and fluttered, squabbling over some bit of food. “And I venture to say that the murder investigation is out of yours.”
Hirata’s family home was in the bancho, the district west of Edo Castle where the Tokugawa hatamoto occupied estates surrounded by live bamboo fences. Although these vassals had served the shogun’s clan long and faithfully, they lived in conditions modest at best and often near poverty because of rising prices and the falling value of their stipends. Today the crowded neighborhood of ramshackle buildings looked drab indeed, with the bamboo withered and leafless. Hirata rode amid other samurai, along narrow, muddy dirt roads. He dismounted outside his parents’ house, one of the poorest in the district.
Entering the plain wooden gate, Hirata found the courtyard occupied by four horses, decked with fancy saddles and bridles, which didn’t belong to his family. Three of his small nephews raced around the side of the low, weathered house, shouting. Hirata secured his own horse and went into the house. When he hung his swords in the entryway, he noticed four ornate sets of swords, presumably belonging to the visitors, on the racks with the plain weapons of his father and grandfathers. He entered the corridor and found the house full of people and noise. His
