The Red Chrysanthemum Read online

  “Yes, Lord Matsudaira,” he said. “You can count on me.”

  A month later, Hirata sat in his office with Detectives Inoue and Arai, sorting through the information they’d collected on the potential traitors. He shook his head as he skimmed a document. “We’ve bribed servants, retainers, and family members to spy on all those men, but not one has reported anything that indicates a plot against Lord Matsudaira.”

  “We’ve posted listeners all over the castle and town, but they’ve heard nothing to implicate the suspects,” Arai said.

  “Maybe they’re innocent,” Inoue said.

  “Maybe we’ve wasted a month chasing phantoms of Lord Matsudaira’s imagination.” Frustration filled Hirata. Every day he spent away from his training, he regretted abandoning it. Each morning he practiced the hated meditation and breathing exercises, in hope that he would soon return to Ozuno. “If we don’t find some evidence that those men are traitors, Lord Matsudaira will be displeased rather than relieved.”

  He and the detectives sat in silence, picturing themselves demoted, exiled, or put to death because they’d failed to produce the desired results. Arai said, “What should we do next?”

  “We mount surveillance on the suspects,” Hirata said. “We pray that we catch them doing something wrong.” The surveillance would take a massive effort. His studies could not resume for months—if they ever did.

  “All right. We’ve got twelve men to watch,” Inoue said. “Where do we start?”

  “We might as well draw straws,” Hirata said.

  A guard appeared at the door and said, “Excuse me, but I thought you would want to see this.” He gave Hirata a rolled-up, flattened paper. “I found it stuck under the back gate while I was making my rounds.”

  Hirata unfolded the paper and read the words written there. Surprise interrupted his heartbeat. “Listen.”

  If you want to catch a traitor, look no further than Lord Mori. He is leading a conspiracy to overthrow Lord Matsudaira. He is expecting to receive a secret shipment of guns and ammunition at his estate.

  “Maybe this is the break we need,” Arai said, voicing Hirata’s hope. Inoue looked skeptical. “Who wrote the letter?”

  “There’s no signature, and I don’t recognize the calligraphy.” Hirata asked the guard, “Did you see who left the letter?”

  “No. It could have been anybody passing by.”

  “Anonymous tips are not to be trusted,” Inoue said.

  “But not to be ignored, either.” Hirata knew from past experience that they sometimes told the truth, and he needed every clue that came his way. “If we should catch Lord Mori stockpiling weapons, that would be evidence of treason.”

  “And what have we got to lose by choosing him as our first surveillance target?” Inoue said.

  Arai nodded. “When do we begin?”

  “The letter doesn’t say exactly when he’s due to receive the shipment,” Hirata said. “We should begin our watch tonight.”

  The next eleven nights found Hirata, Inoue, and Arai perched on the roof of the mansion across the street from Lord Mori’s estate. Other detectives occupied roofs within estates nearby, whose owners Hirata had ordered to cooperate with his investigation. Gables and trees concealed them. The only person in a position to spot them was the lookout in the local fire-watch tower. Hirata figured that the man wouldn’t dare interfere.

  The first ten nights passed without event. No deliveries of any kind arrived for Lord Mori. The rainy season began. Huddled on the roof tiles, deluged by storms, Hirata wondered if the anonymous tip was a hoax and he was suffering for naught. On the eleventh night, Hirata peered at the gate while Arai and Inoue dozed under an oiled cloth they’d rigged up on the roof gable to protect themselves from the endless rain. Halfway between midnight and dawn, he’d begun nodding off himself, when a noise in the street jarred him alert. He wakened Arai and Inoue. They saw two porters lugging a big crate, staggering under its heaviness. Three more pairs, similarly burdened, followed. The porters halted outside Lord Mori’s gate. The guards admitted them. Hirata crawled up to the peak of the roof. Standing on his toes, clinging to the gable for support, he could just see into Lord Mori’s courtyard, where dim lights from a guardhouse shone through the dripping rain. Figures in the building were silhouetted in the windows. Their movements suggested prying open a box with a crowbar and raising the lid. One man held up a long, thin object. He positioned one end against his shoulder and sighted along it.

  It was a gun.

  Hirata’s heart clamored with exhilaration as he slid down the roof. “Those were the weapons that just arrived,” he told Arai and Inoue. “Let’s gather our troops and raid the estate.”

  “Did you find the weapons or any other evidence that Lord Mori was a traitor?” Sano asked Hirata.

  They were seated in Sano’s office. The room had a musty smell of damp wood and mildewed tatami. Rain streamed down outside. The morning was as dark as if the sun had drowned.

  “Not yet,” Hirata said. “But it’s a big estate. My men are still searching.”

  “Well, I hope they find those guns,” Sano said. If Lord Mori could be proved guilty of plotting against Lord Matsudaira, then no one except his own people would care about his murder. Reiko wouldn’t be in as much trouble. “Have you questioned Lord Mori’s guards?”

  “My detectives did. The guards deny that they took in the weapons. But of course they would. They wouldn’t want to implicate themselves in treason.”

  Chin in hand, Sano contemplated the story Hirata had just told. “Could you have been mistaken about what you saw?”

  “I suppose so.” Doubt tinged Hirata’s voice. “But I was certain at the time.”

  “Your story doesn’t explain why you happened to raid the estate just in time to discover Lord Mori murdered and my wife at the scene.”

  “It must be a coincidence.”

  “That’s too big a coincidence as far as I’m concerned.” Sano smelled a setup. “Did you try to find out who sent the letter that put you onto Lord Mori?”

  “No,” Hirata said, chagrined. “I know I should have. It just seemed more important to find out whether it had any merit. I’m sorry I didn’t do a more thorough investigation.”

  Sano was, too. If Hirata had, they might have had information that could help Reiko. And Sano had even more reason to be concerned. A slapdash job was out of character for Hirata. He’d changed in ways that Sano found disturbing, that boded ill for their relationship as well as the murder case.

  “I remember Ozuno from that investigation three years ago,” Sano said. “But I had no idea that he’d made you his disciple.”

  “It’s supposed to be a secret.” Hirata was obviously upset that he’d revealed it. “I shouldn’t have told even you.”

  But Hirata’s first loyalty was to Sano, and not just because Sano was his master. Hirata owed his high rank and all its associated honors to Sano.

  “You won’t tell anybody, will you?” Hirata said anxiously.

  “Not unless it’s necessary, and right now I don’t see why it would be,” Sano said. Obligation worked both ways with them.

  Hirata let out a breath of relief. “Then you don’t object to my training with Ozuno?”

  Sano hesitated. Training with a master such as Ozuno was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Furthermore, Sano couldn’t begrudge Hirata the chance to overcome his physical weakness: Hirata had been wounded in the process of saving Sano’s life.

  “No. But I must caution you,” Sano said. “It’s not just my approval that you should worry about. Next time you go off to a training session, Lord Matsudaira and the shogun might not forgive you.”

  “I know.” Hirata sounded torn between samurai duty and personal desire.

  “And it was dangerous to allow your training to interfere with your duty,” Sano went on. “You put yourself under too much pressure to placate Lord Matsudaira, all the while you’re in such a hurry to return to your lessons that you’
re skipping important steps.”

  “A thousand apologies,” Hirata mumbled, his face full of distress.

  “Apologies aren’t what I need,” Sano said. “I need your help solving this case and clearing my wife. I need to know that you’ll give it your full attention and your best effort.”

  “I will,” Hirata said with fervor. “I promise.”

  Sano only hoped that he could trust Hirata. “Well, we’d better get over to the palace. Lord Matsudaira and the shogun must be wondering what’s taking us so long.”

  In the palace audience chamber, the shogun sat on the dais, cowed by fear of Lord Matsudaira, who knelt below him in the place of honor at his right. Lord Matsudaira’s expression was thunderous with rage. The guards stood perfectly still along the walls, as if the slightest movement would bring his wrath down upon them. As Sano and Hirata walked into the room, Lord Matsudaira said, “When were you going to tell me that Lord Mori had been murdered?”

  Sano stifled the curse that rose to his lips. Lord Matsudaira must have spies inside the Mori estate, who’d smuggled the news to him. That Sano had delayed reporting the news himself made his situation worse.

  “I was planning to tell you after I’d seen what had happened,” Sano improvised as he and Hirata knelt and bowed. “I wanted to bring you a report on the progress of the inquiry into Lord Mori’s death.”

  Lord Matsudaira narrowed his eyes, suspicious that Sano had deliberately withheld information and wondering at his intentions. “Well? How did Lord Mori die?”

  “He was stabbed and castrated,” Sano said.

  The shogun gasped in horror. Distress stirred the guards. Lord Matsudaira frowned as though personally insulted. “Did you find out who killed him?”

  “Not yet.” Sano spoke in a firm, authoritative voice, to hide the fact that he was hedging while he thought what to say.

  “Are there any suspects?”

  “Everyone in the Mori household is a suspect.” But Sano knew he couldn’t keep Reiko’s involvement a secret forever, and better that Lord Matsudaira heard about it from him than anyone else. “There has been an attempt to incriminate my wife.” Lord Matsudaira stared and the shogun gaped. “She—”

  “She was found in Lord Mori’s bedchamber, naked and covered in blood, alone with his dead, mutilated body.” Into the room strode Police Commissioner Hoshina, tall and muscular and proud. His handsome face shone with malevolent pleasure. With him was his chief retainer, Captain Torai, a slighter, lesser version of himself. Both grinned at Sano, relishing his misfortune.

  Alarm assailed Sano because his enemy had obviously heard the news from his own spies and rushed here to capitalize on it. Sano recalled the meeting with General Isogai and the elders, and their warning about Hoshina’s new campaign to destroy him.

  “Is this true?” Lord Matsudaira said, glaring at Sano. “Did your wife kill Lord Mori?”

  “It’s true that she was found at the scene of the crime,” Sano said, “but she didn’t do it. I can explain—”

  “What’s to explain?” Hoshina said. “Lady Reiko was caught literally red-handed.”

  “It’s obvious she’s the murderer,” said Captain Torai.

  Furious, Sano turned on them. “I didn’t give you permission to join this meeting. Leave,” he ordered. Things were bad enough for Reiko without their accusations.

  But Lord Matsudaira motioned them to stay. They knelt, smirking at Sano. Lord Matsudaira fixed on him a gaze replete with menace. “The evidence against your wife is very incriminating.”

  “It doesn’t prove she’s guilty,” Sano objected. “Please hear me out, and you’ll agree that she was framed.”

  “‘Framed,’” Hoshina scoffed. “Is that what she said? That’s the excuse all criminals offer in their own defense.” He addressed the shogun: “With Your Excellency’s permission, I shall arrest Lady Reiko.”

  Panic beset Sano. Events were moving too fast in the wrong direction. “I forbid you!”

  “He’s trying to protect his wife from the law, at the expense of justice,” Captain Torai told Lord Matsudaira.

  “You’re trying to persecute Lady Reiko for your own purposes!” Hirata burst out.

  “I haven’t heard one reason why she shouldn’t be convicted of murder this day,” Lord Matsudaira challenged Sano.

  Even as Sano opened his mouth to answer, the shogun piped up nervously, “I can’t believe that Lady Reiko, could, ahh, do such a terrible thing. She’s such a nice, pretty young woman.”

  He emphasized the word “pretty,” as though Reiko’s looks were a better proof of her innocence than her character was. But Sano welcomed any support during a battle. “Thank you, Your Excellency.” Hoshina scowled. “May I tell my wife’s side of the story?”

  “Permission granted,” the shogun said with a daring look at Lord Matsudaira. He sometimes chafed at his cousin’s domination and welcomed opportunities to resist it.

  Lord Matsudaira also scowled. “Very well, Chamberlain Sano. I’m listening.”

  Sano gave a fast, abridged, but persuasive recital of Reiko’s tale. When he told about the boy Lord Mori had strangled, the shogun exclaimed in horror. Lord Matsudaira shook his head. Even Hoshina and Torai seemed disturbed. But after Sano described how Reiko had fallen unconscious and awakened to find herself beside Lord Mori’s corpse, Hoshina burst out laughing. Torai echoed him.

  “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard!” Hoshina said. “If your wife expected you to believe it, Honorable Chamberlain, she must think you’re an utter fool.”

  “I thought the part about spying on Lord Mori was far-fetched.” Torai sneered. “No woman does things like that. Not even the unconventional Lady Reiko.”

  The shogun giggled. Sano’s heart dropped because the shogun swayed with whatever wind was blowing the hardest at the moment.

  “Lady Reiko’s story sounds dubious at the very least,” Lord Matsudaira said. “Especially the part about Lord Mori stealing and killing children. I’ve known him for years. He’s always seemed a most honorable, decent man.”

  “There’s never been the slightest rumor of a stain on his character,” Hoshina rushed to add. “And he was a strong, loyal subject of the regime.” His tone reminded Lord Matsudaira that Lord Mori had helped bring Lord Matsudaira to power.

  “He may not have been so loyal,” Sano said, determined to counter Lord Matsudaira’s bias in favor of the murder victim.

  “I had him under investigation for plotting a coup,” Hirata said, reminding Lord Matsudaira that he himself had suspected Lord Mori of treachery and ordered the investigation.

  Lord Matsudaira glanced at the shogun. His expression warned Sano and Hirata that they were verging on a forbidden topic. The shogun was unaware that his cousin had seized control of Japan and the fealty of many of his subjects. No one had told him, and since he rarely left the palace, he saw little of what went on around him. Lord Matsudaira didn’t want him to know because he still had enough power to put Lord Matsudaira to death for treason. But no one dared disobey Lord Matsudaira’s orders against enlightening the shogun. A conspiracy of silence pervaded Edo Castle.

  “Lord Mori was suspected of treason?” The shogun gaped. “Well, ahh, that changes the picture, does it not? If he was a traitor, then, ahh, whoever killed him did us a favor.”

  “If he was,” Lord Matsudaira said. “Did your investigation turn up anything against him, Hirata-san?”

  Hirata described the shipment of weapons. The shogun nodded. Lord Matsudaira kept his expression neutral, but Sano could feel him weighing the evidence, his regard for Lord Mori sinking, and his fear that if Lord Mori had turned on him, then so might his other allies.

  But the police commissioner jeered at Hirata: “You thought you saw weapons delivered to Lord Mori’s estate.” He spread his hands. “Where are they?”

  When Hirata hesitated, Captain Torai said scornfully, “It’s obvious that Chamberlain Sano and Ssakan Hirata have fabricated lies to ruin Lor
d Mori’s reputation, the better to make his murder seem unimportant and excuse Lady Reiko.”

  Both the shogun and Lord Matsudaira nodded. Growing more anxious as he lost ground to his enemies, Sano said, “Believe them at your own risk, Honorable Lord Matsudaira. In the interest of security, you should wait until the murder has been fully investigated before you decide my wife is guilty and there’s no threat to the regime.”

  “The murder has been investigated fully enough,” Hoshina said. “In fact, Chamberlain Sano has found a witness who completely discredited Lady Reiko’s statement.” He shot Sano a victorious glance. “It’s Lord Mori’s wife.”

  Sano tried to conceal his dismay that Hoshina had found out about Lady Mori and her damning story. “Lady Mori is a suspect herself.”

  “What did she say?” Lord Matsudaira said.

  “She lied,” Hirata said.

  Lord Matsudaira gritted his teeth with impatience. “I asked you what Lady Mori said. Answer me.”

  “She said that my wife was involved with Lord Mori and killed him during a quarrel,” Sano said reluctantly.

  “That does it.” Lord Matsudaira smacked his hands down on the floor. The shogun started. “Police Commissioner Hoshina, you may arrest Lady Reiko. Skip the trial. Send her straight to the execution ground.”

  “It’s my pleasure to serve you, Honorable Lord Matsudaira,” Hoshina said. He and Captain Torai rose; they grinned at Sano.

  “Wait,” Sano said, desperate. “If you execute my wife, you’ll be putting an innocent woman to death and letting Lord Mori’s killer go free!” Horror flooded him because he felt Reiko slipping away from him as if she were drowning in the sea and he were losing his grasp on her hand.

  “Better just admit you’ve lost,” Hoshina said.

  “We’ll let you say good-bye to Lady Reiko before she’s dead,” Torai said.