The Cloud Pavilion (19 page)

“Uncover the deceased,” Dr. Ito said.

Mura drew back the cloth, revealing Tengu-in To Sano she looked shrunken, an effigy of herself, no longer human.

“A nun?” Dr. Ito asked, clued by the hemp robe she wore.

“From Keiaiji Convent,” Sano said, then explained about the three kidnappings.

Dr. Ito moved closer to her, bent over her neck, and studied the reddish-purple ligature mark. “She appears to have been hanged.” He peered at the round indentations along the mark. “With a rosary, I deduce. There are no fingerprints on her neck, and no wounds on her hands as there would be if she fought an attacker. I would say this was a suicide.”

“That’s what I thought,” Sano said.

“But if it was, and if you know how she died, then why risk an examination?”

“Because I wasn’t able to get any information from her about the man who kidnapped her, and neither was my wife. She was so distraught that she couldn’t tell us. I’m hoping her body can.”

“It’s unlikely after all this time has passed since the kidnapping, but we shall see.”

“Don’t cut her unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Sano said. When he returned her body to the convent, he didn’t want to face awkward questions about what had happened to it at Edo Morgue.

“We shall hope that a visual examination will suffice,” Dr. Ito said. “Mura-
san
, remove her clothes.”

Mura fetched a knife, carefully slit the nun’s robe down the front, and peeled back the fabric. Naked, Tengu-in was a skeleton clothed in translucent white skin that the sun had never touched. Sano could see her rib cage, her joints, the blue tracery of her veins. Her breasts were small, flat, empty sacks, her stomach concave, her sex a cleft screened by gray pubic hair.

But he saw no trace of any foreign material on her, not even when Mura turned the body. Dr. Ito said, “Whatever the kidnapper might have left on her, it’s gone.”

Sano endured his inevitable disappointment. He offered a silent apology to Tengu-in, for subjecting her to further indignity, for nothing.

Mura positioned the body on its back. As Dr. Ito reinspected it, his gaze suddenly sharpened. “Wait. There may be something after all.”

Hope rose anew in Sano. “What do you see?”

“Mura-
san
, open her legs,” Dr. Ito said.

Mura obeyed, with difficulty: The body had begun to stiffen. Dr. Ito pointed between her legs, at ugly red sores on the withered lips of her sex. The white, raised centers of the sores were still moist with pus.

Sano stepped backward, revolted. “What is that?”

“A disease,” Dr. Ito replied. “It’s spread by sexual relations and common among prostitutes. But it’s not often seen in nuns.”

Nuns were supposed to be celibate, and by all accounts, Tengu-in had been a virtuous woman. “Then how—” Enlightenment struck. “She caught it from the rapist. He must have it, too.”

“That is a logical explanation,” Dr. Ito said. “It seems the examination was worthwhile after all. You’ve learned one fact about the man that you didn’t know before.”

“Yes. That’s good.” But Sano quickly realized what else the discovery meant. “He could have given the disease to his other victims.”

“If it was the same man in all three cases,” Dr. Ito said.

Sano thought of Chiyo, and Fumiko. Would they develop the disease? He found himself hoping that there were three different rapists, even though it would make his job harder.

“Is the disease curable?” he asked.

“Sometimes, with proper medicine.” Then Dr. Ito added reluctantly, “Sometimes not.”

When Sano returned to Edo Castle, one of the guards at the gate said, “Honorable Chamberlain, there’s a message from
S
sakan
Hirata. He has important news, and he asks that you please call on him at his estate.”

Hoping that this news was better than what he’d heard so far today, Sano went to the official quarter inside the castle. There, the shogun’s chief retainers and highest officials lived in mansions surrounded by barracks with whitewashed walls decorated with geometrically patterned black tiles. Sano dismounted from his horse outside the estate that had once been his own, before he’d been promoted to chamberlain and given Hirata his old position. Hirata’s sentries let Sano inside the familiar courtyard, through the inner gate. Sano had visited Hirata often enough that he usually felt little nostalgia upon seeing his former home. Today the mansion seemed smaller, like a shell he’d outgrown.

Sano went to the reception room, and Hirata joined him, bringing two young samurai. They were tall, strong specimens of the warrior class, with intelligence written in the poise of their bodies as well as in the set of their facial features. But they looked utterly miserable.

Hirata introduced them as Kurita and Konoe. “They’re part of the team I assigned to watch the oxcart drivers.”

A bad feeling rippled through Sano. The men fell on their knees before him and confessed, “We lost them.”

They were clearly devastated because they’d failed in their duty. In truth, Sano didn’t feel much better about the fact that his suspects had escaped.

“On behalf of my men and myself, I apologize.” Hirata looked sober and humiliated because he’d let Sano down. “But I know that doesn’t do much good.”

Sano didn’t berate his friend; that wouldn’t do much good, either. “Just tell me what happened.”

“The two drivers went to work at a bridge that’s being built over a canal,” Kurita said. “While we were keeping watch on them, the bridge collapsed.”

“There were a lot of men on it,” said Konoe. “They fell in the water. The beams and posts fell on top of them. There was so much confusion as people were running to rescue them that we lost sight of the drivers.”

“When everything settled down, they were gone,” Kurita said.

“Honorable Chamberlain, we’ve betrayed your trust and our master’s,” Konoe said. He blinked furiously, but tears ran down his high cheekbones. “We’re ready to commit seppuku.”

“No,” Sano said, adamant. “I forbid it.” That would be wasting two lives for one mishap that could have befallen anyone. Sano thought that too many good men adhered too strictly to the samurai code of honor and killed themselves, while too many bad men broke its rules and lived happily ever after. “The important thing is to find the suspects.” He still believed they were connected with the kidnappings, and they were his only leads. “I need your help. Now is your chance to make up for your mistake.”

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain,” the men said, chastened yet relieved.

Hirata gave Sano a grateful look, which Sano returned in kind. Hirata had once saved Sano’s life at serious, almost fatal cost to himself. That alone would excuse Hirata for a million mistakes.

“Where shall we start hunting?” Hirata asked.

Sano cast his mind across the city, which was riddled with places for the oxcart drivers to hide. Conducting a street-by-street search and closing off the highways that led out of town would take too much time. Logic offered a better solution.

“In our suspects’ home territory,” Sano said.

Instead of going home, Reiko had her escorts take her to Major Kumazawa’s estate, where she found Chiyo sitting in her chamber, combing Fumiko’s hair. Fumiko wore a fresh white kimono printed with pale blue irises, and her face was clean; Chiyo must have given her a bath. She was actually a pretty girl. She sat quietly while Chiyo worked the tangles out of her hair. Reiko smiled at the scene, which appeared as classic and timeless as one in a painting. She was glad that Chiyo and Fumiko seemed to have found some peace.

Then they looked up at her, and the illusion of peace shattered. Chiyo’s eyes were red and wet from crying. Fumiko regained the tense, furtive guise of a cornered animal. Neither of them had forgotten what had happened, not for a moment. Fumiko started to rise, primed to flee.

Chiyo said, “Don’t be afraid, it’s only Lady Reiko.” She smiled, with a painful effort, and bowed. “Welcome. Your company does us an honor. Won’t you join us?”

Reiko bowed, murmured her thanks, and sat. Chiyo offered refreshments, and after Reiko politely refused and then accepted, a servant brought tea and cakes. Reiko ate, finding herself surprisingly hungry after the terrible events of the morning. Fumiko wolfed down the food. Chiyo smiled indulgently and said, “She’s always ready to eat.”

She was making up for months of near-starvation, Reiko thought. “It’s good of you to feed her.”

Even when Chiyo smiled, the sadness never left her eyes. “Having her to take care of has done me good.” Reiko knew she was thinking of her children. “What brings you here today? Is there news?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid it’s bad.” Reiko told Chiyo about the nun’s suicide. She didn’t want to disturb Chiyo, but neither did she want Chiyo to hear the story via gossip.

Chiyo looked saddened. “That poor woman. I shall pray for her spirit.”

Fumiko didn’t seem to care. Chewing the last cake, she started to wipe her mouth on her sleeve. Chiyo gently stopped her and handed her a napkin. Fumiko scowled, but she used the napkin, then carefully folded it. Reiko was pleased to see Chiyo teaching the girl manners. Maybe they would do Fumiko good in her uncertain future.

“Has anything else happened?” Chiyo asked.

Reiko sensed how eager Chiyo was to hear that the kidnapper had been caught and that life would somehow return to normal. She hated to disappoint her. “My husband is pursuing some inquiries.” She couldn’t tell Chiyo what Sano was doing at Edo Morgue; not even his family could know the secret. “Tengu-in’s death may furnish new clues.”

There came the sounds of heavy footsteps and male voices from the front of the house. Fumiko sat up straight, her ears perked. “It’s my father!”

She jumped up and scurried out of the room.

“What can Jirocho be doing here?” Reiko said as she and Chiyo followed.

They went to the reception room, from which Jirocho’s and Major Kumazawa’s voices emanated. Fumiko would have rushed inside, but Chiyo held her back, gesturing her to be quiet. Reiko, Chiyo, and Fumiko cautiously peeked in the open door. Major Kumazawa was seated on the dais, Jirocho and his bodyguards on the floor below it. The women stepped back, so as not to be seen, and listened through the lattice-and-paper wall.

“Why have you come to call on me?” Major Kumazawa said in an unfriendly tone.

“Because you and I have common interests,” Jirocho said, unruffled by Major Kumazawa’s cold reception.

“What might those be?”

“We’ve both suffered insults to our clans.”

“A mere coincidence. It doesn’t justify relations between us.”

“We have something else in common,” Jirocho said. “Neither of us likes how Chamberlain Sano is conducting the investigation.”

“That hardly makes us comrades.” Sarcasm tinged Major Kumazawa’s voice. “Why impose on me to talk about it? State your business.”

“I’m here to make a proposition,” Jirocho said. “We join forces and hunt down the kidnapper ourselves.”

There was a short silence in which Reiko could sense Major Kumazawa’s surprise. Major Kumazawa said, “I’m conducting my own search. Why would I want to cooperate with you?”

“Because you haven’t managed to catch the bastard yet,” Jirocho said.

“You haven’t, either,” Major Kumazawa retorted.

“True,” Jirocho admitted. “I don’t have enough men to search the whole city. Neither do you. But if we put our troops together, we can cover twice as much area without going over the same ground twice.”

That would surely interfere with Sano’s inquiries. Reiko shuddered at the idea of Jirocho’s gang and Major Kumazawa’s troops rampaging through the city, more avid for vengeance than for the truth.

Major Kumazawa said, “That’s not a good enough reason. I know what you are, I know how you do business. Joining forces with you would bring me nothing but trouble.”

It might well, Reiko thought. Jirocho said, “Before you refuse, listen to this. Have you ever wondered why you haven’t been able to find out who kidnapped your daughter?”

“It’s only been a few days since she was taken,” Major Kumazawa said. “All I need is more time.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re not getting anywhere because there are places in the city that you don’t know and people who won’t talk to you?”

“I know the city like the palm of my own hand,” Major Kumazawa said, growing more irritable. “I can go everyplace, make everybody talk.”

“You’re mistaken,” Jirocho said evenly. “You high-ranking samurai live in your own little world. There are many people you never even see because they’re careful to stay out of your way. People in my world, for instance.”

Major Kumazawa laughed, a sound of pure, arrogant scorn. “Even if that’s true, it’s my problem. Why should you care?”

“Because I have the same problem. There are places that I can’t go, and people who won’t talk to me.” Jirocho added, “People of
your
class.”

Reiko risked another peek through the door. She saw Jirocho lean toward Major Kumazawa as he said, “It seems that there are two different kidnappers. One raped your daughter, the other, mine. What if the man you’re hunting is a commoner who’s hiding among other commoners, being protected by them? What if the man I’m hunting is a samurai that I can’t go near?” His tone grew urgent, intense. “Alone, we’re at a disadvantage. Together, we can get the vengeance we both want.”

“Oh, I see what this is about. It’s not that I can’t get vengeance without you; it’s that you can’t without me.” Disdain edged Major Kumazawa’s words. “Your offer is an insult. This conversation is finished. Get out.”

Jirocho didn’t reply, but Reiko could feel his anger and frustration, like heat from a fire burning on the other side of the wall. She and Chiyo pulled Fumiko down the passage, lest they be caught eavesdropping. But as Jirocho and his men stalked out the door, Fumiko called, “Father.”

His head turned; he saw her and halted. A strange expression came over his wolfish features. Fumiko didn’t run to her father, even though every line in her body strained toward him; she hesitated like a dog whipped too often. Chiyo held her in a protective embrace. Jirocho swallowed; his jaw shifted. His gaze absorbed her new clothes, her clean face. His men looked at him, awaiting his reaction. Beneath his surprise, Reiko detected other emotions she couldn’t identify.

Major Kumazawa appeared in the door of the reception room. Jirocho pointed at Fumiko and demanded, “What’s she doing here?”

“She lives in this house now.” Although Major Kumazawa was, as Reiko knew, far from happy with the arrangement, he seemed pleased to see Jirocho disconcerted.

“Why—how—?” The gangster’s face went blank and stupid with incomprehension.

“My daughter insisted on taking her in,” Major Kumazawa said. “Have you a problem with that?”