Bundori: A Novel Of Japan

contribute to the troubles the murders are causing?”

Sano refused to take the bait. Arguing that he’d only been on the case for two days, or that he wasn’t responsible for the mass hysteria the murders had provoked, would only invite more insinuations and preclude the cooperation he wanted from Hayashi.

“If you’re concerned about the disturbances in the city, then you should help me catch the killer,” Sano said, trying to sound calm and reasonable. “I want five more doshin to conduct inquiries, while their assistants perform door-to-door searches. And I want clerks to solicit and take statements from citizens who might have information about the murders.”

Hayashi’s response was a burst of derisive laughter. “You expect me to defy Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s orders-for you? Never!” His bold sneer and aggressive posture bespoke the secure knowledge that his rude, unaccommodating behavior had Yanagisawa’s sanction. “We the police can control the townspeople-but I doubt you will have as much success in finding the Bundori Killer.”

Seeing the futility of trying to gain Hayashi’s agreement in the face of Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s opposition, Sano changed the subject.

“Tonight a man tried to kill me,” he said, holding down the anger that had its roots in past injustices Hayashi had inflicted upon him. He described the attack, the sword fight, and his own necessary victory. “I found this on the body,” he finished, handing over the dead man’s pouch. “I believe he was a hired assassin, paid to keep me from investigating the murders.”

Hayashi’s slim hands lovingly counted the gold coins, but he snapped, “Muimi- nonsense! So the man died with money on him. You say there were no witnesses to the attack. Why should I believe that this… assassination attempt was not just a common street brawl?”

Sano took back the pouch and removed the paper that Hayashi had missed. “Because of this,” he said, unfolding and proffering it.

Ripped from a larger sheet, it had characters inked on both sides. On one, the name “Junnosuke” and a date; on the other, the disjointed words:

caution

highly skilled at kenjutsu

usual terms

usual method

as soon as possible

“The killer called me by name,” Sano explained. “The letter is dated the day I took charge of the investigation. I don’t claim to be highly skilled at swordsmanship, but anyone who attacks me should use caution. And the usual terms?” He pointed at the gold coins now resting in Hayashi’s palm. “Partial payment upon accepting the job; the rest after my death.”

“And why would an assassin retain a compromising document such as a letter ordering him to kill?” Hayashi asked skeptically. “Assuming that this is such a letter-which I cannot.”

“He’d torn off the incriminating passages and used the rest to wrap some dried melon seeds.”

For some reason, mention of the seeds caused Hayashi’s derisive smile to slip, a muscle to twitch in his jaw.

“You know this man,” Sano challenged. “Who is he?”

But Hayashi had himself under control now. “Okashii-ridiculous! He was probably someone you offended.”

Sano had considered the possibility. He knew that many of his colleagues resented his promotion. Chamberlain Yanagisawa disliked him. But assassination was an extreme way to redress a minor grievance; its timing too coincidental. And Hayashi’s involuntary reaction had strengthened his conviction.

“I want the police to find out who the assassin was, and who hired him,” Sano said. “I believe it was the Bundori Killer, who considers me a threat, but doesn’t want to attack me himself, either because of my skill or status, or because he’s busy stalking other victims. If you investigate the attempt on my life as a new case, separate from the murders, you needn’t fear going against Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s orders.”

“But you’ve given me insufficient justification for diverting the efforts of our already overworked police force to the task of investigating a common ruffian who is already dead.” Hayashi’s mocking manner returned. “You are nowhere near catching the killer; why should he deem you a threat? And remember: I have received no orders to assist you-with anything.”

He replaced the coins and paper in the pouch, which he handed back to Sano. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have many criminals to attend to. As I would not, if you had caught the Bundori Killer by now.”

He opened the door and told the guards, “Get a clerk to take the sosakan-sama’s statement.” To Sano: “Afterward, you will be free to go. But if you continue to engage in brawls, not even your status will protect you from the law. His Excellency does not condone such unseemly behavior.”

As Sano sat down to wait, the new threat of the shogun’s disapproval only compounded his problems. For despite the lack of solid proof, he was sure of several things.

His assailant wasn’t just a common Edo street brawler, or a jealous rival. Someone wanted to stop his inquiry into the Bundori Murders. Probing the assassin’s background could lead him to the killer. In the meantime, to pursue the investigation would mean risking his own life.

Chapter 12

It was nearly midnight when Sano finished with the police, much too late for him to meet Aoi. When he reached the castle, he dispatched a messenger to the shrine with his apologies. But it wasn’t too late to consult the Edo Castle historical archives. Chief Archivist Noguchi was an avid scholar who didn’t confine his studies to the daytime. Often Sano and the other clerks had stayed up with him until dawn, copying, restoring, and poring over old scrolls by lamplight until their eyes ached.

Inside the castle’s Official Quarter, Sano dismounted outside the mansion that housed the archives. The guards, accustomed to their master’s irregular hours, took charge of Sano’s horse and bowed him through the gate. At the door, a manservant met him and led him into the study.

“Sano-san!” Noguchi, working alone tonight, knelt in his alcove behind a desk cluttered with scrolls, burning oil lamps, and writing materials. “What brings you here?” When he saw Sano’s condition, his frown lifted the wrinkles on his forehead into his shaven crown. “My friend, what has happened to you?”

Upon hearing about the attack, he left his desk and bustled in fretful circles around Sano, assessing the damage. “Oh, no. Oh my! Shall I call a doctor?”

“I’m fine,” Sano assured Noguchi. His cuts stung, but weren’t serious, and he could tend them when he got home.

“Some refreshment, then.”

“No, thank you, I’ve already eaten,” Sano said, hoping the polite formula would discourage Noguchi from pressing hospitality on him. He hadn’t eaten since noon, but he wanted to get to the purpose of his visit.

After assuring himself that Sano was indeed all right, Noguchi relaxed and said, “Well, at any rate, I’m glad you’ve come. I have good news for you. The Ueda have set a time and location for the miai between you and Miss Reiko.”

“That’s good,” Sano said, trying to sound enthusiastic. His marriage negotiations had taken second place to the murders. “Thank you, Noguchi-san”

“It will be an afternoon meeting at the Kannei Temple the day after tomorrow,” Noguchi continued. “If that is suitable to you and your honorable mother, of course.”

When Sano pictured this first important acquaintance with his prospective bride, he found that his imagination had endowed the yet-unseen Ueda Reiko with Aoi’s face and figure. Alarmed, he said, “Those arrangements will be fine,” and reiterated his thanks. “Now I need your help with something else.” Quickly he explained that he wanted information about Araki Yojiemon and Endo Munetsugu, and why.