from the pipe dangling in his fingers.
“You have something to tell me about Koheiji?” Sano said.
“I’ll help you if you help me,” Ebisuya said.
He was in his thirties-getting too old to have much hope of stardom. He held out his hand for money, and Sano saw scars on his arm-from self-inflicted cuts, meant to convince patrons of his love for them. Probably he, like many actors, had thereby sought to coax men into ransoming him from his contract with the theater that owned actors the way that brothels owned courtesan s. He was also getting too old to attract patrons much longer. His features were pretty but hard with the desperation that drove him to bargain with a Tokugawa official.
“Talk,” Sano said. “If your information is worthwhile, I’ll pay.”
Nodding sullenly, Ebisuya withdrew his hand. “I don’t like to tell tales on a fellow actor,” he said, “but I owe Koheiji a bad turn. I was an apprentice at the Owari when he was hired. Before he came, I had the best roles. Afterward, Koheiji played the lead parts that should have been mine.” Ebisuya’s eyes flashed resentment at his rival’s good luck. “He’s not more talented than I am-just better at sucking up to people.”
“People like Senior Elder Makino?”
“Him among others. Koheiji was a favorite with audiences, and not just for his performances onstage. He wanted to hook a patron who would buy his way into leading roles at a top theater.”
So Koheiji engaged in manly love in the past, thought Sano. Perhaps he’d lied when he said he hadn’t had sexual relations with Senior Elder Makino. If so, he could also have lied when he’d claimed he hadn’t been with Makino the night of the murder.
“He knew how to please men, even though he prefers women,” Ebisuya continued. “He gave his clients good sumata.”
In sumata-the “secret thigh technique”-one man thrust his organ between another’s thighs, simulating anal intercourse. Thus had Koheiji satisfied his clients with minimal discomfort to himself.
“Did his sumata win him the patronage of Senior Elder Makino?” Sano said.
Ebisuya gave Sano a look that scorned the idea. “Senior Elder Makino didn’t practice manly love. That’s not why he paid the Nakamura-za to hire Koheiji and make him a star.”
“Then why did he?”
“Koheiji found a way to attract men who didn’t want sex with him.” The onnagata’s tone conveyed reluctant admiration for his clever rival. “Makino was one of them. He liked the special performances that Koheiji put on after the theaters closed at night.”
“What sort of performances?” Sano said, intrigued.
“Koheiji would hire a female prostitute and make love to her in front of his clients. They were all rich, impotent old men who couldn’t make love to a woman themselves. Instead, they watched Koheiji do it.”
Sano imagined Koheiji and the woman naked and coupling while the elderly men looked on, their lined faces avid with their need for vicarious sexual gratification. “Did Senior Elder Makino become Koheiji’s patron after watching his act?”
“Yes,” Ebisuya said, “but he didn’t just watch. For an extra charge, Koheiji would give shows for only one client at a time. The client could join in the fun-if he got excited enough.”
“Makino paid for private shows?” Sano said.
“So I’ve heard. And he must have enjoyed them a lot, because not only did he become Koheiji’s patron, he also took him into his home. He probably wanted to save himself the trouble of a trip to Kobiki-cho every time he wanted a show.”
On the night of the murder, had Koheiji performed a sex show for his host? Sano envisioned the skull-faced Makino with Koheiji, both fondling a nude woman pressed between them. If this revolting scene had indeed occurred that night, who had she been? The torn sleeve pointed to the concubine Okitsu. But Makino’s wife had also shared his chambers, and perhaps his sexual proclivities. And Sano wondered whether a three-way encounter had any connection with Makino’s death. Ebisuya had portrayed Koheiji as a greedy, ambitious user of men, but no worse. Sano had heard nothing to suggest that he’d killed the patron on whom his career depended.
“But Makino wasn’t aware that he was risking his life every time Koheiji put on a show for him.” Ebisuya’s portentous tone announced that he’d come to the part of his story he most wanted to tell. “There were rumors that Koheiji played rough during those private shows. Some men liked it that way. But he went too far at least once.” Ebisuya inhaled on his pipe, blew out smoke, and continued: “It happened late at night about five years ago. I woke up to hear someone calling my name and knocking on the window beside my bed. I looked outside and saw Koheiji standing there.
“He said, ‘I need your help.’ When I asked him what was wrong, he wouldn’t tell me. He was all upset. He begged me to come with him. I was curious, so I went. He took me to a room at an inn. There was an old samurai lying naked inside. He was covered with bruises and blood. At first I thought he was dead, but then I heard him groan.”
A tingle of anticipation coursed through Sano.
“I asked Koheiji what happened,” Ebisuya said. “He said, ‘It was a private show. Things got out of control. I just sort of lost my mind. The next thing I knew, I’d beaten him up.’ ”
Sano’s pulse accelerated as he transposed the scene to Senior Elder Makino’s estate. He pictured Koheiji beating Makino in a frenzy, mounting him, and violating him. Perhaps Koheiji harbored a secret hatred for the men that his ambitions forced him to please. Had he lost control that night and killed Makino in a fit of rage?
Ebisuya said, “I asked Koheiji, ‘Where’s the girl?’ He said, ‘Gone. She must have run away.’ I said, ‘Why did you come to me?’ He said, ‘Because I know you’ll do anything for the right price.’ I asked him what he wanted from me. He said, ‘That man is an important official. If word of this gets out, I’ll be ruined.’ ” Ebisuya panted and wrung his hands, reenacting Koheiji’s fright. “ ‘People know I rented this room. I can’t let him be found here. You have to help me move him out.’ ”
“Did you?” Sano said as Ebisuya paused to prolong the suspense.
“Yes,” Ebisuya said. “He paid me to help him and keep quiet about what had happened. We dressed the old man. We carried him to the highway and left him on the side of the road.”
Makino’s murder had elements in common with the other crime-the age and gender of the victim, his injuries. That Koheiji had covered up a crime in the past implicated him even more strongly in the death of Senior Elder Makino and the alteration of the murder scene.
“What happened to the old man?” Sano asked.
“I later heard that the highway patrol found him and took him home,” Ebisuya said. “I still see him hanging around the theaters.”
“Who is he?”
“Oyama Banzan.”
Sano recognized the name of a judicial councilor. “And the girl?” he said, in case he needed another witness to the incident.
“I don’t know. Koheiji didn’t tell me.”
“They didn’t report him to the police?”
Ebisuya shook his head in pitying contempt. “Oyama must have been too ashamed to admit he’d been beaten up during a sex game. The girl must have been too scared to talk.” A malicious grin curved Ebisuya’s mouth. “And I waited until now.”
When Koheiji was a suspect in a serious crime, and Ebisuya could do him the most harm, thought Sano.
“Was my story worth your while?” Ebisuya held out his hand and wiggled the fingers.
“Time will tell,” Sano said, but he opened the pouch he wore at his waist and handed over a gold coin from the stash he carried for occasions like this.
Ebisuya tossed the coin up in the air, then closed it in his fist. “A thousand thanks. Good luck with your investigation. May Koheiji get his just reward.”
He dumped ash from his pipe and ground out the sparks with his foot. He opened the theater’s back door and slipped inside. Sano walked down the alley to the street and found Ibe waiting for him in front of the theater.
“I was beginning to think you’d run out on me,” Ibe said.
“My apologies for taking so long,” Sano said.
He decided not to tell his watchdog what he’d learned from Ebisuya. Woe to him if Chamberlain Yanagisawa found out he’d withheld information! Yet Sano also feared what Yanagisawa might do to an informant who could
