The Perfumed Sleeve Read online

  “But Makino’s preference for women was well-known,” Sano said. “Besides, he would never have abased himself to anyone.”

  “Men have been known to hide practices that would compromise their reputations,” Dr. Ito said. “However, there is an alternative explanation.”

  “Makino was forced to submit?”

  “Yes—by an attacker who overpowered and penetrated him.”

  Shaking his head, Sano blew out his breath. “This case gets stranger with each new clue. The sleeve suggests that a woman killed Makino in the bedchamber. But the disorder and the blood in his study say he was beaten to death there. And the broken window latch suggests that an assassin entered his estate and killed him. Sometime during whatever happened, he was penetrated by a lover, or an attacker. The motive was sexual, or political.” Sano counted off possibilities on his fingers, then upturned his empty palm.

  “But the evidence is misleading, or perhaps false. Maybe the vital clues were destroyed by whoever tried to make Makino’s death look natural in spite of all the signs to the contrary. Maybe none of those stories is true.”

  “Or maybe each contains part of the truth,” Dr. Ito said.

  Sano nodded, his mind sorting and recombining the evidence into ever more baffling patterns. “Can you look for other clues on Makino that might resolve the contradictions?”

  But although Dr. Ito spent the next hour poring over the corpse with a magnifying glass, he found nothing more. “I am sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” he said. “What will you do now?”

  “I’ll continue investigating.” Sano had a disturbing sense that he’d embarked on a journey to an unknown destination, from which there would be no return.

  He liked a challenge, and his desire for the truth had strengthened with the first intimation of foul play against Makino. Yet now that he was sure Makino had been murdered, the matter involved more than a favor to a dead man or a personal quest for justice. For the next step in his journey, he must carry his investigation into the public realm, an arena fraught with hazards.

  In the private chambers of Sano’s estate, Reiko and her friend Midori, the wife of Sano’s chief retainer Hirata, sat with their children at the kotatsu in the nursery. Coals burned inside the square wooden frame of the kotatsu. Its flat top formed a table, over which was spread a quilt that contained the heat from the coals, covered everyone’s legs, and kept them warm. Lanterns brightened the gloom of the day. Maids placed a meal of soup, rice, roasted fish, and pickled vegetables on the table. While Reiko’s son Masahiro hungrily gobbled food, Taeko, five months old, nursed at Midori’s breast.

  Reiko watched the cozy scene as if from a distance. Ever since she’d arrived home from the island where the Dragon King had held her, Midori, the shogun’s mother, and Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s wife captive, she’d inhabited a dimension separate from everyone else. What had happened during the abduction, and on that island, enclosed her in a private shadow that nothing could dispel.

  “This morning, I found that Taeko had crept up beyond the head of her bed while she slept,” Midori said. Her pretty face was still plump from the weight she’d gained during pregnancy. She lovingly stroked her daughter’s glossy black hair. “That’s a sign that she’ll rise high in the world.”

  Superstitions connected with infants abounded, and Midori took them seriously. “Hirata-san hung a picture of a devil beating a prayer gong in Taeko’s room. Now she doesn’t cry at night. Hirata-san is such a good papa.” Her tone bespoke her love for her husband.

  “Mama, why do ladies shave their eyebrows?” Masahiro said, his mouth full of food. Almost three years old, he had a lively curiosity about the world. “When is it going to snow?”

  Reiko automatically smiled, conversed, and ate. But the distance between herself and her companions worried her, as did the other ill effect wrought by the kidnapping.

  After her rescue and a quiet month at home, she’d thought herself recovered from the horrors she’d experienced. But the first time she’d ventured outside the estate after her homecoming had proved her wrong. She’d gone to visit her father, and she’d been enjoying the trip, until her palanquin, bearers, and mounted escorts reached the official district outside Edo Castle. Suddenly, as if by evil magic, Reiko was transported back to the highway where the kidnappers had ambushed her and her friends. Memories of the attack came, terrifyingly real. Her heart hammered in panic; vertigo assailed her.

  The spell lasted only an instant. Reiko decided that it had been a mental fluke that wouldn’t recur.

  But it did, several days later, when she went out again. Panic struck the moment Reiko cleared the Edo Castle gate. The next time, the spell started before her palanquin left her own courtyard, and it affected her so badly that she ran back into the house. Soon the mere thought of leaving home triggered the pounding heart, vertigo, and panic. Fear of the spells triggered more of them. Reiko tried to cure herself with meditation and martial arts practice. She took medicine composed of dragon bones and sweet flag root to combat nervous hysteria. Nothing worked. Reiko hadn’t left home since that third episode.

  Confined to the estate, she’d pondered the baffling spells. Why did she have them, when the other women seemed unaffected? It was true her experiences had been worse than theirs. She also believed that the terror she’d stifled, while they gave free rein to theirs, had become trapped inside her and demanded release. Yet understanding didn’t cure the spells, nor did berating herself. Now she felt as much a prisoner as when locked in the Dragon King’s palace. She realized that unless she forced herself to go outside despite the spells, she would remain always a prisoner. Unless she could brave the world’s hazards, she must forever cease helping Sano with his investigations, abandon the detective work she loved, and shirk her duty to further her family’s welfare.

  Like it or not, the time to act was now. Reiko flung the quilt off her legs and rose from the kotatsu.

  “Mama, where are you going?” Masahiro said.

  Already Reiko felt her heartbeat speed up as the panic encroached. “Out,” she said.

  “Where, Mama?” said Masahiro.

  “Someplace,” Reiko said, fighting to control the tremor in her voice. “Anyplace.”

  “But the weather is so cold,” Midori said. “Why not stay home, where it’s warm and we can all be cozy together?”

  Reiko saw that Midori was just as afraid to leave the security of the estate as she was. Midori hadn’t even tried to go out since they’d come home. But while Midori was content to stay, happily occupied by new motherhood, Reiko was not. Although gripped by the fear that if she went she might never return, she hastened from the room.

  She ordered a manservant to assemble an escort for her. As she donned her cloak and shoes, her mind recalled women screaming during the ambush. As she climbed into her palanquin, she envisioned fallen bodies and blood everywhere. While her palanquin and escorts bore her downhill through the winding passages of Edo Castle, shudders wracked her body. Her frantic gasps and thudding heartbeat sounded loud above the remembered voice of the man who’d almost killed her. But she held firm, like a lone, courageous warrior facing an enemy legion.

  By the time her procession left Edo Castle, the spell receded. Reiko felt triumphant even though shaky. She was outside the castle, and she’d survived. Next time would be easier. Eventually she would conquer the evil magic and the spells wouldn’t trouble her again. Now Reiko looked out the window of her palanquin at the city she’d not seen in five months. Her procession was moving down the wide boulevard through the district south of Edo Castle where the daimyo lived. Huge estates lined the boulevard, each surrounded by barracks, their white plaster walls decorated with black tiles set in geometric patterns. Multitudes of samurai rode along the street.

  Suddenly a procession overtook Reiko’s, and she saw the crest of the Yanagisawa clan on the riders’ garments. A black palanquin pulled up alongside hers; its window opened, revealing a woman dressed in dark gray kimon
o and cloak. She was in her thirties, with a plain, flat face devoid of makeup. Her dour, narrow-eyed gaze brightened as she beheld Reiko, and a hint of a smile curved her broad lips. Now Reiko remembered that there were dangers that weren’t just the product of her imagination and threats not dispelled when Sano had rescued her from the Dragon King.

  “Hello, Reiko-san,” murmured Lady Yanagisawa, wife of the chamberlain.

  Beside her appeared a beautiful little girl with a happy smile, and a vacant expression in her eyes: Lady Yanagisawa’s feebleminded nine-year-old daughter.

  “Hello, Lady Yanagisawa,” Reiko said. “And hello to you, Kikuko.”

  What a misfortune that she should encounter them, of all people! Yet Reiko knew this meeting was no coincidence as surely as she knew Lady Yanagisawa was capable of great harm.

  Lady Yanagisawa, ignored by the husband she loved with a passion, and mother of a child who would never grow up, was so jealous of Reiko’s beauty, adoring husband, and normal child that hatred infused her affection for Reiko. The affection drove the shy, reclusive Lady Yanagisawa to cling to Reiko, her only friend. The hatred drove her to mad acts of violence against Reiko.

  “What a surprise that we should run into each other,” Lady Yanagisawa said in her soft, gruff voice as their processions moved sedately in parallel.

  “Indeed,” Reiko said.

  She knew that Lady Yanagisawa spied on her, bribing Reiko’s servants to tell her everything Reiko did. Reiko had been forced to employ her own spies in her own household to catch the informants, whom she dismissed. But Lady Yanagisawa’s money bought her more spies among the new servants. Reiko supposed they’d told Lady Yanagisawa she was going out, and Lady Yanagisawa had rushed to follow her.

  “It’s been so long since we’ve met,” Lady Yanagisawa said. Her intense gaze flickered over Reiko, as if hungry for every detail she saw. Her jealous hatred shimmered like heat waves from a volcano. “How glad I am to see you again.”

  How glad you must be for a chance to attach yourself to me and attack me again, Reiko thought. The bad spells weren’t the only reason for her reluctance to leave home. Her five months’ hiding had protected her from Lady Yanagisawa.

  “I’m glad to see you, too,” Reiko lied. She didn’t dare offend the wife of the chamberlain, who would punish any offense against a member of his family, even one for whom he cared nothing. “And you, Kikuko.”

  The child giggled. Reiko stifled the aversion she felt toward Kikuko. Kikuko was sweet and innocent, and Reiko pitied her, but she was her mother’s obedient tool of destruction.

  “I’ve called on you many times, but your servants said you were ill.” A hint of slyness in Lady Yanagisawa’s eyes said her spies had told her differently. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Reiko. She would feel even better if Lady Yanagisawa would leave her alone. Anger at the woman’s machinations filled her.

  Lady Yanagisawa lowered her head and gave Reiko a hooded, indirect glance. “I wouldn’t like to think you’ve been avoiding me?” Accusation laced the humble query.

  “Of course not. I’ve thought about you often and wished to know what you were doing.” Indeed, Lady Yanagisawa haunted Reiko’s thoughts like an evil spirit, and she’d wondered what new demented impulses bred inside the woman. “That we’re face-to-face eases my mind.”

  Face-to-face, she could watch Lady Yanagisawa. It was when Reiko turned her back that disaster happened.

  Lady Yanagisawa nodded, pacified, but her expression turned anxious. “You’re not angry at me for …” She paused, then whispered, “For that … incident?”

  “I don’t know which incident you’re talking about,” Reiko said truthfully. Did Lady Yanagisawa mean the one that had involved Kikuko and Masahiro last winter? Or the one between herself and Reiko on the Dragon King’s island?

  A sigh of relief eased from Lady Yanagisawa. “I was worried that you hadn’t forgiven me. Now I’m so glad to know you’ve forgotten what happened.”

  Reiko could never forget the first incident, when a scheme contrived by Lady Yanagisawa had almost killed Masahiro, or the second, when Lady Yanagisawa had tried to kill her. Since these attacks had occurred despite Reiko’s friendship with Lady Yanagisawa, Reiko dreaded to think what unholy destruction Lady Yanagisawa would wreak should they become foes. Hence, she’d forgiven the unforgivable and endured Lady Yanagisawa’s murderous friendship.

  Their processions moved together into the Nihonbashi merchant district. Commoners thronged the streets; shops overflowed with furniture, baskets, ceramic dishware, shoes, and clothing, while proprietors and itinerant peddlers hawked their goods to the crowds. The road narrowed, requiring that Reiko’s and Lady Yanagisawa’s processions either go single file or separate.

  “I have an idea,” Lady Yanagisawa said, her plain face alight with eagerness. “Let’s go to your house, and Kikuko can play with Masahiro.” She addressed her daughter: “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

  Kikuko nodded and smiled. Reiko shuddered inside, wishing she could bar the deadly pair from her home. A feeling of helplessness combined with her anger and hatred toward Lady Yanagisawa and her fear of what the woman might do next.

  “Then it’s all settled.” Love and envy smoldered in the gaze Lady Yanagisawa turned on Reiko. Oblivious to the wrongs of her actions, her own motives, and Reiko’s dislike, she said with perfunctory courtesy, “Unless you have other plans?”

  “None,” Reiko said.

  Yet she did have plans that she forbore to mention. First she must overcome the spells. She would need all her courage, wits, and strength to carry out her second plan: ridding herself of Lady Yanagisawa once and for all, before Lady Yanagisawa killed her or someone dear to her.

  Sano and Hirata ate dinner in Sano’s office before reporting for their audience with the shogun. Sano described Dr. Ito’s examination of Makino, then said, “Detectives Marume and Fukida are taking the body back to the estate.” He sipped hot tea, warming his hands on the bowl. “What have you accomplished?”

  “I questioned everyone at Makino’s estate,” Hirata answered nervously. Every time since Sano had reprimanded him, Hirata feared falling short of Sano’s expectations. “There are a hundred fifty-nine retainers and servants. They all claim they never saw Makino after he retired to his quarters, soon after dark. Most of them spent last night in their barracks. I think they’re telling the truth.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  Sano spoke in a tone devoid of criticism, yet Hirata hastened to justify his opinion: “Makino had a strict security system. He had guards patrolling constantly, checking on everybody. The men on duty last night vouched for the rest of his staff.”

  “What about the guards themselves?” Sano said. He thought Hirata was trying too hard to atone for his misdeed. Sano had already expressed forgiveness to Hirata and wished he would stop torturing himself. Having transgressed Bushido in his own time, Sano felt that one infraction, committed during extreme circumstances, needn’t ruin a samurai. “Did they have any contact with Makino?”

  “They say not.” Hirata explained, “The guards patrol in pairs. Each man had his partner to verify his story. Partners are changed every shift. Makino made sure to prevent his guards conspiring against him.”

  Chewing a rice cake, Sano nodded, convinced.

  “Furthermore,” Hirata said, “Makino had guards watching his private quarters. They say no one was there last night except the four people who shared them with Makino.”

  “And those are … ?”

  “His wife Agemaki. His concubine Okitsu. His houseguest, whose name is Koheiji. And Tamura, his chief retainer.”

  “The people we met this morning,” Sano observed.

  “Makino’s security system didn’t extend inside his own quarters,” Hirata said. “His staff told me that he liked privacy. There was nobody checking on those four people. I recommend interviewing them.”

  “We will,” Sano sa
id. “In the meantime, did you find any other signs left by an intruder?”

  “No luck. The footprints outside Makino’s study ended at the edge of the garden. There was nothing to show how an intruder got into the estate—or got out afterward.”

  “You asked the guards if they saw or heard anything unusual last night?”

  Hirata swallowed tea and nodded. “They say they didn’t. But it’s possible that someone who knew their patrol routine climbed over the wall when they weren’t looking, then sneaked across the roofs to Makino’s private quarters.”

  “Did you examine the roofs?” Sano said.

  “Yes,” Hirata said. “The tiles were clean and unbroken. If someone did cross them, he was careful.”

  Sano pondered as they finished their soup. “There’s another possibility.”

  Hirata nodded in comprehension.

  “We’d better go, or we’ll be late for our meeting with the shogun.” As Sano rose, he added, “Good work, Hirata-san.”

  But his praise didn’t clear the anxiety from Hirata’s face. They both understood that Hirata needed to do much more to regain Sano’s complete trust and their close friendship.

  The shogun’s palace occupied the innermost precinct of Edo Castle, at the top of the hill. Sano and Hirata walked through the dusk toward the palace, along paths that crossed formal gardens. Autumn had stripped most of the leaves from the oaks and maples; only the pines flourished green. Guards patrolled outside interconnected buildings with many-gabled tile roofs, white plaster walls, and dark cypress beams, shutters, and doors. Inside, sentries admitted Sano and Hirata to the audience hall. They crossed the long room, where guards stood and attendants knelt along the walls. From the far end of the room, six men watched Sano and Hirata.