Black Lotus (8 page)

She said, "You could teach me what to do."

Hirata shook his head in exasperation. "Detective work is also dangerous," he said. "Reiko is an expert swordswoman; she can defend herself, but you wouldn't stand a chance in a fight." With gentle but unflattering scrutiny, Hirata appraised Midori's soft, slender body, which rarely performed physical activities more strenuous than fetching and carrying for Lady Keisho-in; her dainty hands, which had never held a weapon. "You could get hurt, or even killed. Did you think of that?"

Midori hadn't. She knew Hirata was only being practical, not deliberately cruel, but her spirits sank. He wouldn't accept her help, and she couldn't think of any other way to get closer to him. As her hopes for winning Hirata's love dwindled, Midori bowed her head, blinking away tears.

"Why, you're afraid of a tiny little wasp," Hirata teased. "How could you dare to go out in the world of evil criminals?" Then his voice turned gentle: "Oh, come on. Don't look so sad. You don't really want to play detective, do you?" Hirata touched Midori's chin. "Let me see your pretty smile."

Midori's lips trembled as she tried to comply.

"That's better," Hirata said. "Now you just put those silly thoughts out of your mind, all right?"

Reluctantly, Midori nodded.

"I'll see you soon." Hirata patted her head as if she were a child, or a dog. Then he strode away.

As Midori stared after him, a spark of anger burned through her humiliation. That he should patronize her this way! Now she decided to show Hirata that she was worthier than he thought. Wiping away her tears, she tossed her head defiantly. She would do whatever it took to prove herself as good as Reiko, and win Hirata's love.

Through the crowded streets of the Nihonbashi merchant district, Hirata rode upon his dappled white horse. Peasants scurried out of his way. Passing samurai, noting the Tokugawa crests on his silk garments, bowed respectfully. Hirata felt as though he owned the narrow alleys and open marketplaces; the wares colorfully arrayed in the shops; the noisy throngs; the cloudless blue sky. Beneath his wide-brimmed wicker hat, a satisfied smile broke through his dignified poise. Life had turned out much better than he'd ever believed possible.

Four years ago, Hirata had walked these same streets as a
doshin
--- patrol officer, the lowest rank of the police force. He'd expected to spend his entire career breaking up brawls and arresting petty criminals, living in cramped barracks, marrying a woman from another
doshin
family, and raising a son who would inherit the humble station that he'd inherited from his own father. Then chance had brought him and the shogun's
sōsakan-sama
together. His loyalty and skill had earned him his current position as Sano's chief retainer.

Yet his early days at Edo Castle had been plagued by fear of making a mistake and disgracing himself while supervising a hundred other retainers who were mostly older, more experienced, and from better backgrounds than he. The pressure to perform well had kept Hirata in a perpetual state of anxiety, but hard work had brought eventual success and increased confidence. Now he was no longer the diffident, overly serious self upon whom he looked back with amusement. The shogun doted on him; everyone courted his favor; prominent clans vied for the privilege of marrying a daughter to him. As soon as he and Sano finished the investigation into the crimes at the Black Lotus Temple, they would decide which beautiful, wealthy lady would be his wife.

The thought of women provoked a memory that disturbed Hirata's complacency. What had gotten into Midori today? She'd always been a sweet, lighthearted girl, but now she was acting so strangely. Why did she suddenly want to be a detective? Hirata liked Midori; they'd had good times together, but her foolishness baffled him. While he dismounted outside the high stone walls and ironclad gates of police headquarters, Hirata shook his head. Women! Who could understand them?

Guards bowed to him; a groom took charge of his horse. A
doshin
, arriving with a trio of civilian assistants and a shackled prisoner, said, "Welcome, Hirata-san," and let him enter the compound first. As he walked past barracks and stables, former colleagues bowed greetings to him. In the reception room of the main building, square pillars supported a low ceiling hung with unlit paper lanterns. Sun filtered through the open skylights and barred windows into a haze of smoke from the tobacco pipes of citizens gathered around a raised platform. Upon this, four clerks knelt at desks, receiving visitors and dispatching messengers.

"Good afternoon, Hirata-san," said the middle-aged chief clerk, Uch-ida. His mobile, comic features stretched in a wide smile. "What can we do for you today?"

Hirata often used police headquarters as a source of information, and Uchida was the central repository for news and gossip. "I need your help in identifying the woman and child from the fire at the Black Lotus Temple," Hirata said.

"Then you wish to know whether any missing persons have been reported?" Uchida said. At Hirata's assent, the clerk's expression turned doleful. "Unfortunately, it's not easy to trace individuals in this city."

"I know," Hirata said. The townspeople belonged to groups of households, each with a headman in charge of recording births, deaths, arrivals, and departures among his group. Officials at Edo Castle monitored daimyo and
bakufu
households. The huge volume of data was stored at various temples that kept census records. Within the police department, two hundred forty
doshin
reported incidents in their patrol districts to their supervisors, fifty
yoriki
who maintained archives at their offices. Thus, the information Hirata sought existed, but wasn't easily accessible. "That's why I'm hoping you know something useful."

"Well, I have heard of a few disappearances." Uchida's face arranged itself into an exaggerated frown of concentration. "A sixteen-year-old courtesan escaped from the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter in the spring."

"She's too young to be the woman in the fire," Hirata said. Sano had sent him a message from Edo Morgue, describing the mystery victims.

"A dock worker from Radish Quay came in last month and begged us to find his senile mother, who'd wandered off."

"Too old."

"There was a woman who ran away from the Suruga Hill district a few days ago. She's thirty-four. Her husband is a grocer."

"That's a possibility." After getting the husband's and wife's names, Hirata said, "Have any little boys gone missing?"

"One in Kyobashi." Hirata's hopes rose, but then Uchida said, "He's nine years old." The child in the cottage had been much younger, according to Dr. Ito. "And the only other missing persons I know of are all men."

"Oh, well," Hirata said, undaunted.

He had supreme confidence in himself and his luck, and a bright idea that could save him long hours of perusing dusty archives. He thanked Uchida and walked to a large office at the rear of the building, where twenty clerks sat at desks, preparing memoranda and reports. When Hirata entered the room, they all ceased working and bowed.

"I order you to draft a notice," Hirata said. He was gratified by the alacrity with which the clerks laid out fresh paper and took up their writing brushes. When he'd been a lowly
doshin
, these snobbish sons of high officials had begrudged him any attention. " 'The shogun's
sōsakan-sama
wishes to learn the identities of a woman and child found dead in a fire at the Black Lotus Temple,' " he dictated. After reciting Sano's description of the victims, he continued, " 'Persons with information must immediately report it to Edo police headquarters.'

When the clerks finished writing, Hirata said, "Make a thousand copies of that. But first, write this memorandum and send copies to every
yoriki
: 'Each
doshin
shall post the notice on every public notice board and deliver the order to every neighborhood headman in his district.' "

Brushes flew as the clerks reproduced the notice. Hirata took a few copies to post along his way to Suruga Hill. As he walked through the reception room, Uchida beckoned to him. "If I may be so bold as to offer some advice?" The chief clerk spoke in a low voice so no one else would hear, his expression grave: "The higher one rises, the farther the distance to fall. By succumbing to pride and ambition, one may end up losing everything that really matters."

Hirata laughed. "Thank you for the warning, but you needn't worry about me."

He left police headquarters with a feeling of accomplishment. If the grocer's runaway wife was the murdered woman, perhaps he could soon solve the mystery of who had killed her and the other victims and set the fire. If not, he would begin searching the archives. In the meantime, public response to his notices would surely produce some useful information.

And if he had a chance, he would find out why Midori was behaving so strangely.

7

I seek living beings consumed by the suffering

Of birth, old age, sickness, and sorrow.

To all who accept my truth, I give supreme delight.

-----FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA

Police Commander Oyama's residence was located southeast of Edo Castle in Hatchobori, near the
yoriki
compound where Sano had lived while serving in the police force. The Hatchobori district was also known for its many carpenters. Sano rode his horse past workshops where the carpenters sawed, pounded, carved, and polished raw wood into doors, rafters, floorboards, pillars, and furniture. Sawdust scintillated like motes of gold in the warm afternoon sunlight. Behind high fences stood the mansions of merchants grown wealthy by supplying timber to a city where fires necessitated regular rebuilding. Up and down the canals floated barges heaped with wood.

Sano stopped at a food stall for a quick meal of fish roasted on bamboo skewers over an open fire, rice, and tea. As he ate, he watched porters carry rice bales, barrels of salt, and dry goods along the quays to warehouses. The reek of the canals mingled with the greasy smoke from cooking. Through the crowds of commoners rode a
yoriki
clad in elaborate armor, accompanied by an entourage of attendants.

A wry smile quirked Sano's mouth as he recalled his brief tenure as a police detective. The
joriki
were a hereditary class of Tokugawa retainers, famous for their grand style, but Sano, an outsider in the close-knit group, had been more interested in serving justice than in keeping up appearances. He'd been shunned by colleagues, criticized by superiors, and dismissed from the police force for insubordination, but his unconventionality and a twist of fate had ultimately won him a promotion to his current elevated post.

He finished eating and rode through a dense warren of townspeople's dwellings, to the samurai enclave surrounding police headquarters, which occupied a site in the southernmost corner of Edo's administrative district. Here stood the Oyama family home. Above a high wall surfaced with white plaster rose the tile roofs of a two-story mansion, retainers' and servants' quarters, storehouses and stables. Watchtowers overlooked the smaller residences of other police officials. Sano guessed that the enclave had been built with ill-gotten money: the
yoriki
were also famous for taking bribes. Outside the double gate swathed with black mourning drapery, Sano dismounted and identified himself to the guards.

"I'm investigating the death of Honorable Commander Oyama," he said, "and I must speak to the family."

The immediate family consisted of Oyama's two sons and daughter. Because the house was filled with friends and relatives who had come to comfort the bereaved, they received Sano in a covered pavilion in a garden of boulders and raked sand. There they knelt in a row opposite Sano. The elder son, Oyama Jinsai, was in his early twenties. With his slight frame and sensitive features, he bore no resemblance to his father, except for his straight brows. Fatigue shadowed his intelligent eyes; a black kimono and the sun slanting through the pavilion's lattice walls accentuated his sickly pallor. He had the dazed look of a person overwhelmed by sudden responsibility. When a maid brought tea and a smoking tray, he lit his silver pipe with unsteady hands and inhaled deeply, as if eager for the calming effect of tobacco.

"My mother and grandparents died years ago," he explained, "so now the three of us are the only surviving members of the main Oyama family." He introduced the siblings seated on either side of him. The stocky younger brother, Junio, wore his hair in the long forelock of a samurai who hadn't quite attained manhood. The sister, Chiyoko, was a plain-faced woman in a modest brown kimono, somewhere between her brothers in years.

"Please allow me to express my condolences on the death of your honorable father," Sano said.

"Many thanks." Jinsai regarded him with anxious confusion, obviously wondering why Sano had come. Since Sano hadn't been close to Commander Oyama or worked with him in years, there was no apparent personal or professional connection to justify a visit. "Is there something we can do for you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you at such a time, but I must ask you some questions relating to your father's death."

Jinsai looked mystified. "Excuse me if I don't understand. I've heard that you're investigating the fire at the Black Lotus Temple, but my father was killed because he happened to be in the cottage when it burned. His death was an accidental result of the arson. What questions could there be?"

"I regret to say that your father's death wasn't an accident. It was murder." Sano explained about the blow that had killed Commander Oyama.

"I see." Comprehension darkened Jinsai's features. Sano knew he'd served as his father's assistant; he would be familiar with basic police procedure. "The murder victim's family are the first suspects because they're usually the ones with the strongest grievances against him and the most to gain from his death." Jinsai inhaled on his pipe, expelled the smoke in an unhappy sigh, and shook his head. "But if you expect to find the killer here, you'll be disappointed. It's true that we had good reason to be upset with my father, but his death has brought this household many more troubles than benefits."

"Can you explain?" Sano asked.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The sound of low voices drifted from the house; the air smelled of incense from the funeral altar. In the garden, boulders cast stark shadows across the sunlit sand. The younger brother and sister bowed their heads in misery. Jinsai's expression reflected his reluctance to air private family matters or speak ill of the dead, and the knowledge that he must protect himself and his siblings.

He said in a strained voice, "My father was a lavish spender. He squandered money on drink, parties, gambling, and women. He also gave large donations to the Black Lotus sect. The family finances were… in dire straits."

By tradition, samurai lived frugally, disdained money, and avoided discussing it. Sano pitied Jinsai, whose face was flushed with the shame of confessing his sire's extravagance. "I begged my father to economize, but he wouldn't. Now that he's dead, moneylenders have demanded full payment of his debts. My brother and sister and I inherited nothing except this house, which we can't afford to maintain. We'll have to move to a smaller place and dismiss most of the retainers and servants, who will find themselves out on the streets."

He added grimly, "Money is often a motive for murder, but it wasn't for anyone here. Our family fortune was large, built over many generations, and there should have been enough of it left to support the household even after the debts are settled, except my father bequeathed twenty thousand
koban
to the Black Lotus sect."

Many lay worshippers believed they could gain merit by assisting religious orders and thereby achieve blessings in life and nirvana in some future existence during the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth, Sano knew.

"For many years, my father suffered from terrible stomach pains," Jinsai explained. "Nothing relieved them. Then he went to the Black Lotus Temple, and the high priest cured him. It was a miracle. My father was so grateful that he joined the sect. Now I must honor his will and deliver his fortune to the Black Lotus."

Sano would have to find out whether the sect leaders had known about the will, since twenty thousand
koban
gave them a strong motive for Commander Oyama's murder. Maybe Haru was an innocent bystander at the crime scene. Sano wondered whether Reiko had succeeded in coaxing the girl to talk. Yet he wasn't ready to eliminate Oyama's family as suspects; financial gain wasn't the only motive for murder.

"As the oldest son, you inherit your father's post in the police department, don't you?" Sano said to Jinsai. "And his position as head of the clan."

A bitter smile twisted the young man's mouth as he smoked his pipe. "You're asking if I killed my father because 1 wanted his status, his government stipend, and his power." Throughout history, samurai had often advanced themselves by destroying their own relatives. "Well, I didn't kill him, but even if I had, I would have known better than to expect to become chief police commander, even though my father was training me to take over his duties when he retired.

"Yesterday evening, a
bakufu
delegation came and told me that I'm too inexperienced for such an important post. Another man will get it, and I'll be his assistant, with my same small stipend, until I prove myself worthy of a promotion." Jinsai said in a tone laden with regret, "It would have been better for me if my father had lived another ten years, so I could grow into his job. And although I am head of the family now --- " Jinsai spread his hands in a gesture of despair " --- there's little triumph in ruling a disgraced, impoverished clan."

He added, "In case you were thinking
that
my brother or sister wanted my father dead, I can assure you that his murder was even more untimely for them than me."

When he bent a commanding gaze upon his siblings, the younger brother spoke. "I was supposed to become Jinsai-san's assistant when he succeeded to my father's post," he said in a meek, childish voice. "Now I get nothing unless another place can be found for me." His head bowed lower.

"You know that the
bakufu
is overloaded with retainers and the treasury is hard pressed to support them all," Jinsai said to Sano. "Since we've no money to bribe anyone into giving my brother a position, he'll be dependent on me."

The sister hid her face behind her fan and murmured, "I had received a marriage proposal from a high official…"

"The match would have brought wealth and prestige to the family," Jinsai said, "but this morning, the official canceled the marriage negotiations because he'd heard about our circumstances. It's unlikely that anyone else suitable will want to marry a bride without a dowry. My sister shall have to choose between being a poor spinster and entering a nunnery."

"You have my deepest sympathies," Sano said, because the children did seem to have suffered rather than gained by Oyama's death. "However, I must ask you all where you were the night before last and the morning after."

"We were home," Jinsai said; his brother and sister nodded.

Sano planned to have his detectives question the Oyama retainers and servants and search for witnesses who had seen anyone from the Oyama estate near the crime scene. But he expected that further inquiries would only clear the household of suspicion, and shift the focus of the investigation back to the Black Lotus Temple.

Jinsai said, "May I ask a question,
Sosakan-sama
? We heard that two other bodies were found in the cottage. Who were they?"

"Nobody seems to know," Sano said. "I was hoping that someone here could identify the dead woman and child."

"There's no one missing from this estate," Jinsai said, "and if any women or children are missing from the families of my father's friends or colleagues, I haven't heard."