Blade of the Samurai: A Shinobi Mystery (Shinobi Mysteries) (8 page)

“Because you weren’t absent,” Hiro said. “You were drunk.”

“Drunk?”

“Exceedingly drunk. You left Ginjiro’s after midnight, already intoxicated. From there you went to a teahouse and drank yourself senseless. You woke up this afternoon under a bridge, with no idea how you got there.”

“But I got hungry,” Kazu said, picking up on the story, “and returned to Ginjiro’s to eat.” He nodded slowly. “You know, that might actually work.”

“Only if we find the real killer in time.” Hiro explained about the shogun’s command and Hisahide’s intent to fulfill it by any means necessary. When he finished, he added, “I need you to tell me everything you remember about Saburo. Someone wanted to kill him. The question is who?”

“Everyone wanted him dead,” Kazu said, “but no one would dare to do it.”

“Someone dared,” Hiro said. “What do you mean by ‘everyone wanted him dead’?”

“He never used a gentle word when harshness would suffice, and he thought himself the most important person in any room. No one likes a man like that.”

In Hiro’s mind dislike didn’t translate to wishing for someone’s death, but he let the comment pass. “Did Saburo have any arguments recently?”

“No more than usual.” Kazu raised a hand, remembering. “Wait—he did have an argument yesterday evening.

“The carpenters finish their work at dusk, but we heard hammering into the evening hours. Saburo stormed out to see what was going on. I heard him yelling, but couldn’t make out the words. He returned to the office angrier than he left.”

“Did he explain why?”

“No, and I didn’t ask, though I wondered what Ozuru said to provoke him.”

“What makes you blame Ozuru?” Hiro noted that Kazu referred to the man by name.

“The other carpenters leave at sundown.”

“Ozuru stays late?”

“Most evenings, yes. The shogun wants the work completed quickly, and the delicate carvings have to be finished on-site.” Kazu shook his head slowly. “I don’t think Ozuru did this. He’s an artisan, not a killer.”

“They’re mutually exclusive?” Hiro asked.

“I’m more suspicious of Lady Netsuko.” Kazu glanced at the door and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Saburo was not a faithful husband. Ichiro didn’t know, but Netsuko did. Saburo claimed she didn’t mind, but recently he complained that she grew intolerant of his mistress.”

“But would she stab him to death?” Hiro wished he had looked more closely at Lady Netsuko. From what he remembered, she didn’t seem physically capable of killing her husband in hand-to-hand combat.

“I don’t know her well,” Kazu said, “but she’s an unusual woman and stronger than average.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

“Both.”

“Why kill him at the shogunate, risking witnesses?” Hiro asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“If she killed him at home, Ichiro might have seen her. She loves the boy. She wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“It’s worth looking into,” Hiro said, though he had no intention of doing so. “What did you actually do last night?”

Kazu gave him an innocent look. “I was passed out under a bridge, remember?”

Hiro frowned.

“I told you,” Kazu said. “I left the shogunate and went to Ginjiro’s, hoping Saburo would take his temper home and leave me in peace. When I returned to the office Saburo was dead.”

“How did you leave the shogunate after you found him?”

“Back over the wall, so I wouldn’t alert the guards. No one saw me enter or leave.”

“All right,” Hiro said, “wait ten minutes and leave by the veranda door. If Luis sees you, don’t tell him your name. You’re a wandering monk that Father Mateo allowed to spend the night in the garden.”

“He won’t question that?” Kazu asked.

“He’ll find it foolish, but no, he won’t ask questions.”

Hiro left Kazu and returned to the common room. Father Mateo sat alone by the hearth.

“Where’s Luis?” Hiro asked.

The Jesuit pointed to a door on the opposite side of the room. It led to Luis’s chamber. “Sleeping, or so he said. Did you finish your business?”

“Yes, and now we need to return to the shogun’s compound. I want to talk with Ozuru. After that, we’re going to Ginjiro’s.”

“The sake shop? Why?” Father Mateo looked confused.

“To witness Kazu’s miraculous reappearance.”

Chapter 15

Hiro and Father Mateo waited at the shogunate gates while the guards sent a runner for Akira.

One of the samurai guards regarded Father Mateo with interest, though social convention prevented him from addressing a higher-ranked man without invitation.

The Jesuit noticed and bowed.

Hiro stifled a disapproving sigh. Only foreigners and children ignored etiquette so bluntly. The shinobi cared little for social norms himself but recognized the importance of disappearing into a crowd. Then again, Father Mateo could hardly avoid attracting attention.

“Good morning,” the Jesuit said.

The guard gave an awkward smile and bowed.

“Good morning, Father
-san
,” he said as he straightened. “Please forgive my forwardness, but I am also a follower of the Jesus God, and yet I have never seen you in church. Are you new to Kyoto?”

“I have lived here almost three years,” Father Mateo said, “but my work rarely brings me to Father Vilela’s mission. I spread the Word among the merchants.”

At least he didn’t mention the entertainers and prostitutes,
Hiro thought.

The guard looked curious rather than offended. “Does God hear commoners’ prayers?”

“Our Lord was born a commoner,” Father Mateo said.

The guard squinted as if trying to understand. “I never thought of that.”

“Indeed,” Father Mateo said. “God loves all men equally, regardless of status or birth.”

Hiro turned and bowed as Akira arrived.

The young samurai ignored the shinobi’s greeting. He narrowed his eyes at the guard. “The shogun does not pay you to gossip about your foreign religion.”

“I apologize, Miyoshi
-san
.” The guard returned to his post with a guilty expression.

“Please do not blame him,” Father Mateo said. “The fault is mine.”

“You are here to investigate a murder.” Akira paused and brought his temper under control, as if remembering that the priest was the shogun’s guest. He turned to Hiro. “I notice you have not found Ito Kazu.”

“Not yet,” Father Mateo said. “We returned to gather more evidence.”

Hiro stole a glance at the priest. He hadn’t expected the Jesuit to lie.

“We would like to speak with the carpenter Ozuru,” Hiro said.

“Why do you care about carpenters?” Akira’s eyebrows gathered like angry clouds. “Ito Kazu is to blame.”

“I am not so sure,” Hiro said.

“The evidence points to his guilt.”

“I will explain on the way to Saburo’s office,” Hiro said. “We also wish to review the scene of the crime.”

Akira frowned but led them toward the mansion. At the entrance he stopped and asked again, “What makes you think Kazu is innocent?”

“A murderer wouldn’t leave his own dagger behind,” Hiro said.

“Especially such a distinctive one,” Father Mateo added.

“The murderer could not hide the cause of death.” Akira led them into the mansion and through the maze of wood-paneled rooms. “Only a dagger could have caused Saburo’s injuries.”

“True,” Hiro said, “but knowing the type of weapon is very different from identifying its owner. The killer may have left the dagger behind because he intended us to draw a false conclusion.”

“Or else he was frightened,” Akira said. “Or maybe Kazu left it behind as a distraction, expecting us to believe he would not do so.”

Hiro hadn’t ruled that out, despite his hope that Kazu would prove truthful.

“That suggestion seems brought back from a distance,” Father Mateo said.

Akira stopped walking. “Pardon me?”

“He means that it seems unlikely,” Hiro said. “The Portuguese idiom doesn’t translate well. It’s closer to ‘fetched from afar.’”

Akira shook his head and resumed his pace. “It’s a miracle we can understand him at all.”

“Despite his awkwardness, he makes a point,” Hiro said. “A dagger is simple to conceal. Only a fool would leave it behind.”

“Then how did someone else get Kazu’s dagger?” Akira led them into the room where the carpenters worked.

A trio of workmen bent over the unfinished beam. Their planes rasped in a rhythmic chorus. The scent of cedar shavings filled the air. The carpenters had made significant progress since the morning, and it looked as though they might finish the beam that day.

But Ozuru wasn’t there.

Akira continued across the room, still talking, oblivious to the master carpenter’s absence. “Maybe Saburo caught Kazu stealing, and Kazu killed him to keep the matter quiet.”

“What would Kazu have stolen?” Father Mateo asked. “Did Saburo keep gold or valuables in his office?”

They had reached the opposite side of the room. Hiro decided not to mention the missing carpenter. Ozuru might simply have gone to the latrine.

Akira slid open the door to the room where Saburo died. “He had access to secret documents. Maybe Kazu is a spy.”

That touched too close to the truth for Hiro’s comfort, but it would only increase suspicion to deny it.

“How long has Kazu worked for the shogun?” Father Mateo asked.

“He was here when I arrived a year ago,” Akira said, “and he didn’t seem new.”

“Then your suggestion stretches imagination,” Father Mateo said. “The shogun’s guards would have caught a spy long ago.”

“More importantly,” Hiro said, “there is a simpler explanation.”

Akira stepped into the office and moved aside to let the other men enter behind him. “Which is?”

“Ozuru admitted to arguing with Saburo yesterday evening. Did the guards remember what time the carpenter left the compound?”

Akira shook his head. “I spoke with them after you left this morning. No one remembers seeing the carpenter leave.”

“So he just disappeared?” Hiro paused. “If Saburo was killed by a spy—and I’m far from convinced he was—Ozuru’s guilt seems far more likely than Kazu’s.”

Akira hung his head. “I was sure Kazu did it, but now…” His head jerked upward. His hand flew to his sword. “We must seize Ozuru!”

“Wait,” Hiro said. “A guilty man may escape if arrested too quickly. We can’t explain how the killer acquired Kazu’s dagger or why he chose Saburo as the victim. If you arrest Ozuru without sufficient evidence, you will give him time to construct a persuasive lie.”

Akira hesitated, torn between slow justice and immediate vengeance. Slowly, he lowered his hand. “Very well, but be quick about it. Someone must pay for this crime, and the shogun is not a patient man.”

Chapter 16

Hiro turned his attention to the office and tried to reconstruct the murder.

He already knew the attack occurred in the doorway between the outer room and Saburo’s inner office. The bloody spatters on the wall to the left of the door suggested the victim lost his fingers early, possibly as he stepped into the room.

“Can you tell what happened?” Father Mateo asked.

Akira seemed curious too.

“We know Saburo didn’t draw his sword,” Hiro said, “which means he either knew his killer or didn’t see the attack in time.

“The killer severed Saburo’s fingers near that door.” Hiro gestured toward the inner office. “The blood that spurted from his hand left all those streaks on the wall.”

“How do you know?” Akira asked.

“Have you never noticed that flying blood makes patterns? It’s harder to see in battle, but still visible if you know what you’re looking for.”

Akira glanced away, embarrassed. “I’ve never fought in battle.”

“That’s something to be proud of,” Father Mateo said.

Akira seemed relieved, though he tried to hide it.

Hiro continued his explanation. “The stains grow denser and more frequent approaching the place where Saburo fell. He was bleeding harder, both from injuries and exertion. We see most of the blood on the west side of the room, which means Saburo was facing the outer door throughout the struggle.”

“There was a struggle?” Akira asked.

Hiro looked at the floor. “I see two sets of bloody footprints—one facing Saburo’s office, the other facing away. Neither moves in a standard linear pattern. That suggests a struggle to me.”

“So Saburo fought with his killer,” Akira said. “What else do you see?”

“I think he knew the murderer,” Father Mateo said, “because he didn’t shout or raise an alarm.”

Hiro agreed, though he didn’t like it. That fact implicated Kazu.

“Of course he knew the killer,” Akira said. “Strangers can’t enter the shogun’s compound at night.”

Hiro knew better, but didn’t say so.

He dropped his gaze to the blackening pool where Saburo’s body fell. The tatami had absorbed more blood since morning, making the hair pin’s presence more distinct.

Hiro wondered again who it belonged to.

“Who else worked here last night?” Father Mateo asked.

“No one,” Akira said. “The maids stay late, and the guards of course, but most officials leave at sunset, or very soon thereafter. Only Saburo and Ito Kazu were in this office after the gates were closed.”

“Do guards patrol the mansion after dark?” Hiro asked.

“No,” Akira said. “We have guards at the gates and on the towers. A few patrol the grounds, and of course the shogun has warriors posted around his personal quarters, but there’s no need for guards inside at night.”

“So Saburo might have called for help,” Father Mateo said, “but no one heard him.”

Akira’s lip curled. “No samurai cries for help.”

Hiro walked to the door of Saburo’s inner office. The coppery scent of blood increased as he crossed the floor.

The corpse was gone, leaving only brownish stains on the white tatami and a fading smell of blood and death in the air, along with an undertone of aging food.

Hiro looked down. The dinner tray remained by the door.

The bloody dagger still sat on the desk beside the ink and inkwells, but Saburo’s marble seal had disappeared.