passage out of Yoshiwara after curfew. Seeing the guards’ expressions turn fearful, he said, “I won’t punish you for taking bribes, so just tell me: Who left the quarter last night?”
The men exchanged leery glances; then the lean man said reluctantly, “There was Kinue the oil merchant, with some servants and friends.”
Hirata knew that the merchant owned a major shop in Nihonbashi. “Who else?”
“A group from the Mori clan, and their bodyguards,” said the swarthy man.
This news piqued Hirata’s interest: The Mori were powerful gangsters, associated with trouble of all kinds.
“And Nitta Monzaemon, the treasury minister,” said the lean guard, “with his retainers.”
Hirata frowned, disturbed by the idea that high bakufu officials might be involved in Wisteria’s disappearance and Lord Mitsuyoshi’s murder. “How did all these people travel?”
“Kinue’s party walked to and from the river ferries,” said the swarthy guard. “The Mori group rode the causeway.”
Because the law granted only samurai the right to travel on horseback, the merchant had gone on foot. The Mori, however, were ronin-masterless samurai-and could therefore ride. It seemed unlikely to Hirata that Lady Wisteria had accompanied either party. Women didn’t ride, and if Wisteria had done so last night, she would have risked notice by patrolling soldiers. A woman walking with a group of men would have been just as conspicuous. But a desperate fugitive courtesan might have taken the risk, if she’d found willing accomplices.
“Treasury Minister Nitta’s retainers also rode,” said the lean guard. “But he had a palanquin waiting for him outside the quarter.”
Excitement warmed Hirata’s cold muscles. The palanquin made Nitta a more promising lead than the others. However Wisteria had gotten out of Yoshiwara, the palanquin could have afterward carried her off, in safety and privacy, to a destination known to the treasury minister. Hirata thanked the guards and trudged through the swirling snowflakes to find Sano.
The twenty other guests who’d attended last night’s party at the Owariya were high-ranking bakufu members and their retainers. During a lengthy search of Yoshiwara, Sano and his detectives located six of the men, as well as the courtesans who’d entertained them at the ageya, and learned that they’d stayed together during the time when the murder occurred. Apparently, none of these people had left the party to slip upstairs, and none had reason to kill the shogun’s heir. Sano then tracked down five more guests at the Tsutaya teahouse.
The Tsutaya occupied the ground floor of a building near the quarter’s rear wall. A cylindrical lantern over the doorway bore the characters of its name; light gleamed between the slats of the closed shutters across the front. Sano dusted snow off himself and entered. Inside the elegant room, an alcove held a porcelain vase of bare branches, and maids served drinks to the five men. Charcoal braziers emitted warmth, but when everyone turned to look at Sano, their unfriendly expressions chilled the atmosphere.
A man seated before the alcove spoke: “Greetings, Sosakan-sama.” Sano knelt and bowed. “Greetings, Honorable Senior Elder Makino.” The senior elder was one of five officials who advised the Tokugawa on national policy and comprised the bakufu’s highest echelon. He had an emaciated body, and his bony skull showed through the tight skin of his face; a black kimono accentuated his deathlike pallor. His retainers, who doubled as secretaries and bodyguards, sat grouped around him.
“I suppose you’ve come to question me in connection with Lord Mitsuyoshi’s murder,” Makino said.
“If you’re willing.” Sano replied cautiously, because Makino was no friend of his. The powerful senior elder had once accused Sano of treason, thereby almost ruining him.
“I might be willing to provide information to you,” said Makino, “under certain conditions. Shall we drink?”
He gestured to a maid, who poured sake for him and Sano. They drained their cups, and Sano felt the heated liquor flush warmth through him. “What conditions?” he said. Survival in the bakufu required give-and-take, but Sano was wary of the terms Makino might offer.
“The other party guests can confirm that I was with them at the time of the murder.” Makino inhaled on his tobacco pipe, and blew smoke through his brown teeth. “So can the staff of the Owariya. Hence, I couldn’t have killed Mitsuyoshi. You’ll find no evidence that I was in any way involved in his death.”
Suspending judgment, Sano kept his expression neutral.
“I’m prepared to furnish evidence that might otherwise take you quite some time to find.” Makino gave an ugly grimace that passed for a smile. “And time is critical, is it not?”
It was indeed. “In exchange for what?” Sano said.
“For keeping me out of your investigation.”
The senior elder spoke calmly, but the sinews of his neck tightened like leather cords: He knew Sano could name him as a murder suspect and ruin him because he’d happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. For a moment Sano was tempted to take revenge for all the trouble Makino had caused him, but the impulse quickly passed. To use a murder investigation to further selfish interests would compromise his honor, and he was just as vulnerable to attack as Makino. Should he begin a campaign to advance himself at the expense of his enemies, the resulting bloodbath would probably destroy him. Besides, he needed all the information he could get.
“Very well,” Sano said, “but if I find out that you are involved in the murder, our agreement is terminated.”
Makino’s hollow eyes contemplated Sano with disdain, but his relief was palpable. He signaled the maid to pour another round of sake. After he and Sano drank, Makino said, “There are three guests from the party whom you won’t find in Yoshiwara.”
“Who would they be?” Sano asked.
“The Honorable Treasury Minister, Nitta Monzaemon. And his two top retainers.”
The treasury minister was the official charged with overseeing the collection of taxes on commerce, revenue from the landed estates of the daimyo-feudal lords who ruled Japan ’s provinces-and other monetary tributes paid to the Tokugawa. This was an important post and its incumbent one of the shogun’s most trusted, powerful vassals.
“Where has Nitta-san gone?” Sano said, as he found himself facing the perils of an investigation that extended upward to the high levels of the bakufu.
“I’ve no idea, but he left the quarter with his men during the party.” Makino grimaced, clearly perceiving and relishing Sano’s discomposure.
“Why did he leave?”
“He was not in a festive mood.” Inhaling on his pipe, Makino seemed ready to make Sano probe for every fact.
“Why not?” Sano asked patiently.
“Because of Lady Wisteria. He’s her patron, and quite enamored of her.” Makino shook his head, scorning anyone unwise enough to fall in love with a prostitute. “He is her sole client, now that Lord Mitsuyoshi is gone. She’s very selective.”
By custom, a taju could pick and choose her clients, and her high price compensated for their small number.
“Nitta is so jealous that he reserves her services for every night. He pays her fee, whether he visits her or not, just so he knows she isn’t with anyone else. But he’d learned that on two recent occasions when business kept him away from Yoshiwara, Lord Mitsuyoshi had obtained appointments with Lady Wisteria. Nitta was furious. Then, when he came to Yoshiwara yesterday, expecting to spend the night with Lady Wisteria, the proprietor of the Owariya told him that Lord Mitsuyoshi had requested her, and asked him to yield.”
Yielding was the procedure by which one client preempted another’s appointment with a courtesan. When a client had engaged a courtesan, and a second client asked for her company on the same night, the ageya would, under certain circumstances, ask the first client to yield his appointment to the second. The imposition might displease the first client; however, the polite code of behavior required him to concede if the second client was a special customer of the courtesan, or of higher social position than the first.
“How do you know all this?” Sano asked Makino.
“I make it my business to know all about my colleagues.” In other words, Makino employed spies in the households of the treasury minister and other officials. “I also overheard Nitta arguing with the proprietor of the
