Black Lotus Read online

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

  6

  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 yoriki 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 I wanted his status, his government stipend, and his power.” Throughout history, sam
urai 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, Ssakan-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.”

  “Can you think of anyone who wanted to harm your father?” Sano asked.

  “My father made many enemies during his life;” Jinsai said. “There were criminals he arrested; gangsters who hated him for interfering with their illegal business; rivals for power in the police department; men whose wives he seduced.” The young man mentioned a few names, and Sano noted them. “But if I were in charge of the murder investigation, I would concentrate on that orphan girl who was found near the fire.”

  “Why is that?” Sano asked, welcoming evidence to connect Haru with the arson and murders.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss this with you alone.” Jinsai glanced at his brother and sister.

  At Sano’s assent, the pair bowed, rose, and departed.

  “I doubt if the criminals, gangsters, rivals, or angry husbands knew that my father was at the Black Lotus Temple that night, but the residents would have known. Especially the girls.” His face rigid with disapproval, Jinsai explained, “My father used his status as a sect patron to take advantage of the female orphans and novices. Whenever he visited the temple, he would pick out a girl and have sexual relations with her. He took me to the temple once, telling me that I would enjoy the same privileges if I joined the Black Lotus. And he introduced Haru to me as one of his favorites.”

  “Did the sect leaders know about your father’s relations with Haru or the other girls?” If they did, Sano thought, they hadn’t mentioned it to him yesterday.

  “Maybe; maybe not. You know how it is.”

  Sano nodded. Some unscrupulous sects used female members to attract followers, and the nuns were often little more than prostitutes whose earnings supported the temples. But the bakufu discouraged this practice by shutting down offending sects. It was possible that Oyama had carried on his activities without the knowledge of the Black Lotus leaders, swearing the girls to secrecy by threatening to hurt them if they told anyone. Or maybe they’d willingly consented to illicit sex because they wanted money or favors from him.

  “I could tell that Haru hated my father,” Jinsai continued. “She glared at him, spat on the ground at his feet, then ran away. He just laughed and said her temper made sex with her exciting. Maybe she killed him for violating her, then set the fire to cover up the murder.”

  “That’s plausible,” Sano said, yet he couldn’t reconcile Jinsai’s portrayal of Haru as a wronged woman out for revenge with the terrified girl he’d met yesterday. Besides, her hatred of Oyama didn’t provide a motive for killing the other two victims. It was conceivable that she could have struck Oyama on the head and broken the child’s neck, but she seemed too small and delicate to strangle a grown woman. Sano also wondered why, if Ham was guilty of the crimes, she hadn’t fled the scene before the fire brigade arrived.

  “Haru killed my father,” Jinsai said in a voice crackling with controlled rage. “Whatever he did to her doesn’t justify the misfortune she has brought upon this clan. I want her executed.”

  “If I can prove that she did indeed kill your father, she will be,” Sano said.

  As he exchanged farewell bows with Jinsai, he decided against going to the Black Lotus Temple to continue his inquiries. Instead he would go back to Edo Castle, because Reiko should be home by now. They would compare their results and determine whether Haru was an innocent bystander or the murderer and arsonist he sought.

  7

  Heed my warning that this world is a place of evil spirits and

  poisonous creatures,

  Of flames spreading all around,

  And that a multitude of disasters

  Will follow one another without end.

  —FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA

  Reiko waited with her entourage in the narrow lane outside the Black Lotus Temple for an hour, but the monk didn’t appear. An attendant brought her a bowl of noodles and some tea from a food stall, and she ate in her palanquin, watching the temple gate. Priests, nuns, and pilgrims passed in and out, but there was no sign of the young man who’d claimed to have important information and begged her to meet him. Temple bells tolled the hour of the sheep; the sun bathed earthen walls with the bronze glow of midafternoon. Reiko grew restless. If the monk didn’t show up soon, she would go home to Masahiro.

  Yet Reiko remembered the urgency in the monk’s voice. Surely he’d risked harsh punishment by spying on Abbess Junketsu-in and Dr. Miwa. He might know who had set the fire and hurt Haru. Now Reiko opened the door of the palanquin and stepped out.

  “Wait here,” she told her attendants.

  She walked down the lane between the high walls, circling the Black Lotus Temple. The monk hadn’t specified exactly where they should meet. Perhaps he feared being seen with her. Reiko turned down the narrow alley at the rear of the temple. Gnarled pines rose above the wall, casting deep, cool shadows over the dusty path and the few pedestrians. The sound of chanting rose in air scented with resin, incense, and open sewers. Continuing along the wall, Reiko planned to sneak through the temple’s back gate and look for the monk.

  A s
udden movement rustled the pine boughs above her. As she looked up, a human figure dropped out of the tree and landed with a heavy thud in front of her. Reiko exclaimed in surprise. It was the monk, sprawled on hands and knees, pine needles showering his shaven scalp and protruding ears, his eyes wild with panic. He scrambled to his feet and seized Reiko’s arm. Pulling her down the lane, he said in a breathless voice, “Please come with me.”

  He was only a little taller than Reiko, with a wiry build. His thin fingers dug into her flesh. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded, shocked by his impertinence.

  “Hurry,” the monk pleaded. “Before they come.”

  “Who?”

  Instead of answering, the monk shot a fearful glance over his shoulder. He was about sixteen years old; a faint stubble of whiskers darkened his chin and upper lip. His smooth skin was flushed and beaded with sweat. Reiko’s curiosity overcame her resistance, and she let the monk hurry her away. He didn’t slow down until they reached a small Shinto shrine. He drew Reiko through the torii gate and behind a tall stone lantern in the precinct, where pines sheltered a prayer board, incense vat, gong, and a rustic wooden shed that housed the spirit of the deity. The monk fell to his knees before Reiko.

  “Forgive me for imposing on you,” he said, bobbing a hasty bow, “but I’m desperate. I have no one else to turn to …”

  His face contorted, and he began to cry in hoarse, barking sobs. Reiko’s need for information gave way to an impulse to help a person so obviously in trouble. “I’m here to listen,” she soothed. “Calm down.”

  “There’s no time! They know I’m not where I’m supposed to be. They’re after me. That’s why it took me so long to get out of the temple.”

  “Who’s after you?” Reiko asked, increasingly bathed. “Why are you afraid? At least tell me your name.”