Black Lotus Page 2

  “Have you any idea who committed this terrible crime?” asked the shogun.

  “Not yet,” Sano said. “My detectives and I have begun interviewing the residents of the Black Lotus Temple, but so far we’ve found neither witnesses nor suspects … with one possible exception. The fire brigade found a girl near the scene. Her name is Haru; she’s fifteen years old and an orphan who lives in the temple orphanage. Apparently she tried to run away, then fainted.”

  Tsunayoshi gulped sake; his brow furrowed in thought. “So you think that this girl, ahh, saw something? Or did she set the fire?”

  “Either alternative is possible,” Sano said, “but I haven’t been able to get any information from her.”

  By the time he’d arrived at the Black Lotus Temple, the nuns had put Haru to bed in the orphanage dormitory, a long, narrow room where the children slept on straw mattresses atop wooden pallets. Haru had regained consciousness, but when Sano approached her, the small, slender girl shrieked in terror and dived under the quilts. When two nuns pulled her out, she clung to them, sobbing hysterically.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Sano said gently, kneeling beside the pallet where the nuns held Haru. “I just want to ask you some questions.”

  She only sobbed harder, hiding her face behind her tangled, waist-length hair. Sano ordered a soothing herb tea brought to her, but she refused to drink. After an hour of failed attempts to calm and question Haru, Sano told his chief retainer, Hirata, to try. Hirata was young, personable, and popular with girls, but he fared no better than Sano. Haru cried herself into a fit of choking, then vomited. Finally Sano and Hirata gave up.

  As they left the dormitory, Sano asked the nuns, “Has Haru told anyone what she was doing outside the cottage, or what she saw there?”

  “She hasn’t uttered a word since she was found,” answered a nun. “When the fire brigade and the priests questioned her, she behaved as you just saw. With us nuns she’s calmer, but she still won’t talk.”

  Now Sano explained the situation to Tsunayoshi, who shook his head and said, “Perhaps a demon has, ahh, stolen the poor girl’s voice. Ahh, how unfortunate that your only witness cannot speak!”

  But Sano had a different theory about Haru’s behavior, and a possible solution to the problem. “Tomorrow I’ll try another way of breaking her silence,” he said.

  After leaving the shogun, Sano walked down the hill on which Edo Castle perched, through stone passages between enclosed corridors and watchtowers manned by armed guards, past security checkpoints. Lanterns carried by patrolling troops glowed in the deepening blue twilight. The evening was almost as mild as summer, yet a golden haze veiled the waxing moon. The wind breathed the scent of charcoal smoke and dry leaves. In the official quarter, where the shogun’s high-ranking retainers lived, Sano quickened his steps as he passed estates surrounded by barracks with whitewashed walls. He was eager for the company of his family, and he had a plan to propose.

  He hurried through the gate of his estate, greeting the guards stationed there and in the paved courtyard inside the barracks. Beyond an inner gate, he entered the mansion, a large, half-timbered building with a brown tile roof. As he removed his shoes and swords inside the entry porch, he heard feminine voices singing and laughing, and the excited shrieks of a child. He smiled in bemusement while he walked down the corridor toward the private chambers. He still couldn’t believe that the addition of one tiny person had transformed his peaceful household into a place of noisy activity. He stopped at the nursery door. His smile broadened.

  Inside the warm, bright room, his wife, Reiko, sat in a circle with four other women—her old nurse O-sugi, two maids, and Midori, a family friend. They were singing a folk tune. Little Masahiro, eighteen months old, dressed in a green cotton sleeping kimono, his soft black locks disheveled and his round face rosy, toddled on plump legs from one woman to the next within the circle. His happy, childish whoops joined their song; his tiny hands clapped against theirs.

  Reiko glanced up and saw Sano. Her delicate, lovely features brightened. “Look, Masahiro-chan. It’s your father!”

  Arms outstretched, chortling in excitement, Masahiro ran to Sano, who picked him up, tossed him in the air, and caught him. Masahiro laughed with glee. Sano hugged his son close, enjoying Masahiro’s softness and sweet smell. Love clenched his heart; awe sobered him. He was a first-time father at the late age of thirty-four, and this boisterous little creature seemed a miracle.

  “My little samurai,” Sano murmured, nuzzling his son’s face.

  O-sugi and the maids gathered up the water basin and damp towels from Masahiro’s bath and departed. Sano greeted Midori. “How are you tonight?”

  “Fine, thank you.” Midori bowed. Dimples flashed in her plump cheeks; her lively eyes danced. Eighteen years old, she was a daughter of a powerful daimyo—provincial lord—and held a post as a lady-in-waiting to the shogun’s mother. Sano had met her during an investigation some years ago. She and Reiko had become friends, and Sano suspected that Midori and his retainer Hirata were somewhat more than friends. Because the shogun’s mother had many other attendants to serve her, and great esteem for Sano, she allowed Midori to visit the estate often.

  “I guess it’s getting late,” Midori said, rising. “I’d better go back to the palace.” To Reiko she said, “Shall I come again tomorrow?”

  Reiko smiled and nodded. “Good night.”

  After Midori left, Sano and Reiko played with Masahiro, discussing his appetite, bowels, and all the endearing things he’d done today. Then Reiko announced, “Bedtime!” This entailed much fussing and coaxing, but finally Masahiro was asleep on his little futon. Sano and Reiko settled in the parlor, where he ate a meal of miso soup, rice, grilled trout, and vegetables.

  Reclining upon cushions, Reiko sipped tea. Tendrils of hair had escaped her upswept coiffure; fatigue shadowed her eyes; food stains blotched her maroon silk kimono. She was twenty-three years old, and motherhood had given her a new, mature beauty. “Masahiro is so lively, he wears me out,” she said.

  “You work too hard,” Sano said between bites of fish. “Let the maids help with Masahiro.”

  “Oh, well. Masahiro keeps me busy.” Reiko smiled, adding wistfully, “There’s not much else for me to do.”

  Sano knew that Reiko, the only child of Magistrate Ueda, had enjoyed an unconventional girlhood. Her indulgent father had hired tutors to give her the education usually reserved for samurai sons bound for careers in the bakufu. Despite all her training, however, which extended even to the martial arts, women couldn’t hold government posts or work as anything except servants, farm laborers, nuns, or prostitutes. Not until she married had Reiko found a use for her talents: helping Sano with his investigations.

  She’d uncovered clues in places where male detectives couldn’t go. She’d gathered information through a network composed of women associated with powerful samurai clans. Often her discoveries led to the solution of a case. But since Masahiro’s arrival, Reiko had spent almost all her time at the estate. The child had occupied her, and there’d been no work for her in Sano’s recent investigations.

  “What did you do today?” Reiko asked.

  The eager curiosity in her voice told Sano that she missed the challenge of detective work. Now he realized with consternation that she’d lost some of her spirit. That he hadn’t noticed this before signified that they’d grown apart. Maybe a short break from housewifery would refresh Reiko and bring them closer together.

  “I have a new case,” Sano said. While he ate rice and pickled daikon, he told Reiko about the fire and the three deaths. He described his unsuccessful interrogation of Haru, then said, “From her behavior toward the fire brigade, the priests, Hirata, and myself, I believe she’s afraid of men. I ordered her moved from the orphanage to the main convent at Zj Temple because I don’t want potential suspects—as all the residents of the Black Lotus Temple are—to influence my only witness. I’d like you to go there and interview Haru.”
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br />   Sano smiled at Reiko. “You’re my only female detective, and I’m hoping that you can get some information from her. Do you want to try?”

  Reiko sat up straight; her eyes sparkled, and she shed her weariness like a cast-off garment. “I would love to.”

  “I must warn you that Haru may not cooperate with you,” Sano said, though pleased by Reiko’s enthusiasm.

  “Oh, I’m sure I can persuade her to talk. How soon can we go to the Black Lotus Temple?” Reiko looked ready to jump up and leave immediately.

  “I have to go to Edo Morgue tomorrow,” Sano said, “then make inquiries around town.” Seeing Reiko’s disappointed expression, he said, “But my detectives are going to Zj district in the morning. They can escort you, if you like.”

  “Wonderful. I can hardly wait.”

  Reiko shimmered with happy energy. Sano saw in her the young bride who on their wedding day had pleaded to help solve a murder case, then forged ahead on her own after he’d refused. He felt a surge of love for her.

  “All right,” he said. “We can share our results in the evening.”

  A distant look came into Reiko’s eyes, as if she’d mentally moved ahead in time to tomorrow. “This is a very important interview. I must be careful with Haru. Tell me everything about her, so I can decide how best to draw her out.”

  They discussed possible strategies, just as they had in the days before Masahiro. Sano realized he’d missed their partnership, and was glad he could include Reiko in the investigation.

  2

  When I heard the Law of the Black Lotus,

  My mind filled with great joy,

  And I was freed from care and distress.

  —FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA

  Zj Temple, located just off the Tkaido—the highway that linked Edo with the imperial capital, Miyako—attracted a ceaseless flow of travelers, pilgrims, and mendicant monks. The approach to the temple comprised one of Edo’s busiest marketplaces, where merchants sold refreshments, Buddhist relics, medicinal herbs, dishware, and many other goods. Today the market bustled in the warm weather. Beneath a sunny aquamarine sky that arched over hills green from the recent rainy season, samurai on horseback and strolling peasants browsed the stalls; nuns and priests begged alms. The crowd parted for a procession of mounted samurai escorting a black palanquin emblazoned with a flying-crane crest.

  Inside the enclosed sedan chair, Reiko rode through Zj’s main gate, an imposing structure with red lacquer woodwork and a double-tiered roof, whose three portals represented the three stages in the passage to nirvana. Anxiety undermined Reiko’s pleasure in the trip.

  The morning had begun badly. When she’d tried to leave the house, Masahiro had clung to her, crying and screaming. Reiko promised him that she would be back soon, nearly in tears herself from the pain of their first separation. She’d debated staying home and trying again tomorrow, but the interview couldn’t be postponed. Finally the maids held Masahiro while Reiko ran out the door. All during the journey through Edo, she’d worried about her son.

  Ahead loomed Zj Temple’s white walls. Beyond them rose peaked rooftops, multiple pagodas, and a wooded slope. The procession crossed the bridge over the Sakuragawa Canal. Sano’s detectives dismounted, then escorted the palanquin through the gate and up a steep flight of stone steps to the main temple precinct, past the sutra repository, worship halls, and the huge bronze bell in its wooden cage. Wrought-iron fences shielded Tokugawa family tombs. Crowds flowed in and out of a massive main hall with carved columns and doors and an undulating roof supported by complex bracketry. As she neared her destination, a new fear seized Reiko.

  After her long hiatus from detective work, would she still be able to coax information from the orphan girl? Although she’d spent most of the night mentally rehearsing the interview, she felt unprepared, but it was too late for misgivings. The procession ascended more steps to the temple refectory, abbot’s residence, and quarters for the priests, novices, and servants. The bearers set down the palanquin outside the convent, a two-story wooden building with covered balconies, sheltered by a pine grove.

  Shaky with nerves, Reiko picked up the package she’d brought, a round box wrapped in floral paper. She climbed out of the palanquin. The detectives went on to the Black Lotus Temple to continue investigating the fire. At the door of the convent, a nun greeted Reiko with a silent bow. Reiko introduced herself and explained the purpose of her visit. The nun led her inside, along corridors with bare rafters and plank floors.

  Open doors revealed the nuns’ quarters, which featured barred windows, simple cabinets, and wooden sleeping pallets. Reiko heard low feminine voices, but saw no one.

  “How is Haru today?” Reiko asked.

  The nun’s only reply was a vague half-smile. Reiko’s nervousness increased. They mounted the stairs to another corridor. The nun slid open a door, gestured for Reiko to enter, then bowed and departed.

  Hesitating at the threshold, Reiko saw a cell furnished with a futon on a wooden pallet, washbasin, cupboard, and charcoal brazier. A table held bowls of dried leaves that looked to be herbal medicine. By the open window knelt a small, thin girl dressed in an indigo cotton kimono printed with white ivy vines. Her long, glossy hair was loose, her back to the door. Rocking gently back and forth, she seemed transfixed by the view of bright sky through pine boughs, or lost in thought.

  “Haru-san?” Reiko said quietly.

  The girl gave a violent start. She turned toward Reiko a face whose wide brow, tilted eyes, and pointed chin gave her the appearance of a pretty kitten. When her delicate lips parted, Reiko imagined hearing a tiny mew of fright.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” Reiko said, approaching with cautious steps. Sympathy for the girl eased Reiko’s apprehension. In a soothing voice she said, “Don’t be afraid. My name is Reiko, and I’ve come for a visit with you.”

  She knelt near Haru. The girl didn’t speak, but her wary gaze betrayed a flicker of interest. Encouraged, Reiko said, “You met my husband yesterday. He’s the shogun’s ssakan-sama, and he’s investigating the fire at the Black Lotus Temple—”

  Haru recoiled, huddling low to the floor. She cast a terrified glance toward the door, as if simultaneously seeking escape and anticipating danger.

  Reiko belatedly realized that she shouldn’t have mentioned Sano, whom she knew Haru feared, or introduced the subject of the fire so soon. In her anxiety and her eagerness for information, she’d forgotten common sense, a detective’s most important tool. Yet Haru’s reaction demonstrated that she had the wits to understand words, if not the ability to speak. Hastily Reiko said, “The ssakan-sama isn’t here. I promise he won’t bother you again.”

  Haru relaxed, but watched Reiko doubtfully.

  “And we won’t talk about the fire if you don’t want to. We can just get acquainted. I’d like to be your friend.” Reiko smiled, offering the package to Haru. “Here, I’ve brought you a present.”

  A shy smile curved Haru’s lips. She seemed younger than her fifteen years, and she accepted the package with the eager curiosity of a child. Carefully she removed the cord and wrapping and opened the box, revealing small round cakes dusted with pink sugar. She gave a little gasp of happy surprise.

  “They’re filled with sweet chestnut paste,” Reiko said.

  Haru looked up at Reiko, a question in her eyes.

  “Go ahead, try one.”

  Daintily picking up a cake, Haru took a bite and chewed. Delight lit up her face.

  “You like it?” Reiko said.

  Haru bobbed her head enthusiastically.

  Knowing how girls liked sweets and guessing that orphans seldom received them, Reiko had reasoned that her own favorite treat would win Haru’s appreciation. Now she congratulated herself on the success of her gift. She waited until Haru had eaten several more cakes, licked the sugar off her fingers, bowed in thanks, and set aside the box. Then she said, “Are the nuns treating you well?”

  Ducking her head, Haru nodded.<
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  “How are you feeling today?”

  The girl remained silent, eyes downcast, biting her thumbnail. Reiko suppressed her impatience. Time passed; from downstairs came the scrape of a door sliding open or closed. Then Haru whispered, “Much better, thank you, Honorable Lady.”

  A thrill of glee ran through Reiko: She’d gotten Haru to talk! “I’m glad to hear that. And please call me Reiko.”

  “Reiko-san.” Haru spoke louder this time, her voice clear and sweet.

  Easing toward her subject of interest, Reiko said, “How long have you lived at the Black Lotus Temple?”

  As though rendered mute again by the effort of producing her previous words, Haru raised two fingers instead of answering. Reiko interpreted, “Two years?” At a nod from Haru, she said, “Are you happy there?”

  “Oh, yes.” Now Haru lifted her eyes, appraising Reiko. What she saw evidently reassured her, because she flashed Reiko a timid smile.

  “That’s good,” Reiko said, charmed by Haru and pleased at the growing harmony between them. Not wanting to intimidate the girl or accentuate their class differences, she’d worn a modest dark green kimono printed with pine cones and dressed her hair in a simple knot. Now Reiko felt a renewed confidence in her judgment. “What do you like about the temple?”

  “I like taking care of the children in the orphanage,” Haru said softly. “Children are so sweet.”

  “Yes, I know,” Reiko said. “I have a little boy.”

  “The nuns and priests are so kind,” Haru said, “especially High Priest Anraku. He took me in when I was lost and alone. He gave me hope for the future.” Faith shone in Haru’s eyes. “He brought joy and meaning to my miserable life.”