Uchida, an older man with a humorous face, gave Hirata a welcoming smile. "Well, look who's here again." The police station was always a font of information, and Uchida, across whose desk all this information pa.s.sed, had proved a valuable source many times. "How's life at Edo Castle?"

After exchanging pleasantries, Hirata explained why he'd come. "Any reports of an old peddler selling rare drugs?"

"Nothing official, but I heard a rumor you might be interested in. Some youths from wealthy merchant families in the Suruga, Ginza, and Asakusa districts have supposedly gotten hold of a substance that induces trances and makes s.e.x more fun. Since there's no law against it, and the users aren't suffering or causing any harm, the police haven't arrested anyone. The dealer is reportedly a man with long white hair and no name." Uchida chuckled. "The doshin are looking for him, mainly, I think, so they can try the drug themselves."

"A man with pleasure potions might also have poisons," Hirata said. "It sounds like he could be the one I'm looking for. Let me know if there's any word on his whereabouts."

"Be glad to-if you'll recommend me to your important friends when they hand out promotions." Uchida winked.

Hirata left police headquarters, mounted his horse outside the gate- and immediately thought of Lady Ichiteru. He forced himself to concentrate on the work at hand. Suruga, Ginza, and Asakusa were separated by considerable distance; apparently the nameless drug dealer ranged all over Edo, and might have moved on by now. Instead of questioning the doshin who had reported on him, Hirata would exploit a better, albeit unofficial, source of information.

Perhaps the activity would keep his mind off Lady Ichiteru.

The great wooden arch of the Ryogoku Bridge spanned the Sumida River, linking Edo proper with the rural districts of Honjo and f.u.kagawa on the eastern banks. Below, fishing boats and ferries glided along the water, a shimmering mirror that reflected the vivid autumn foliage along its banks and the blue sky above. Temple bells tolled, their peals sharply vibrant in the clear air.

The hooves of Hirata's mount clattered on the bridge's wooden planks as he joined the stream of traffic bound for the far end of the bridge, an area known as Honjo Muko-"Other Side"-Ryogoku. This had developed in recent years as Edo's population had overflowed the crowded city center. Marshes had been drained; warehouses and docks now lined the sh.o.r.e. In the shadow of the Temple of Helplessness- built upon the burial site of the victims of the Great Fire thirty-three years ago-a flourishing merchant quarter had sprung up. Honjo Muko Ryogoku had also become a popular entertainment center. Peasants and ronin thronged the wide firebreak, patronizing teahouses, restaurants, storyteller's halls, and gambling dens where men played cards, wagered on turtle races, or hurled arrows at targets to win prizes. Lurid signs above a menagerie depicted wild animals. Barkers shouted come-ons; peddlers sold candy, toys, and fireworks. Hirata headed for a popular attraction, where a large crowd had gathered before a raised platform. There stood a man of remarkable appearance.

He wore a blue kimono, cotton leggings, straw sandals, and red headband. Coa.r.s.e black hair covered not only his scalp, but also the other exposed parts of his body: cheeks, chin, neck, ankles, the backs of his hands and tops of his feet, and the wedge of chest at the neckline of his garment. s.h.a.ggy brows nearly obscured his beady eyes; a sharp-toothed mouth grinned within his whiskers.

"Come to the Rat's Freak Show!" he called, waving toward the curtained doorway behind him. "See the Kanto Dwarf and the Living Bodhisattva! Witness other shocking curiosities of nature!"

The Rat was no less an oddity than his freaks. He came from the far northern island of Hokkaido, where cold winters caused men to sprout copious body hair. The Ainu, as they were called, reminiscent of apes, very primitive, and usually much taller than other j.a.panese. Short and wiry, the Rat must have been a runt of his tribe-and an ambitious one. He'd come to Edo as a young man to seek his fortune. A tobacco merchant had let him live in the back of his small shop, charging customers money to see him. The Rat's rodentlike visage had earned him his nickname; his business ac.u.men had turned the merchant's sideline into this lucrative, notorious freak show. Some twenty years later, the Rat now owned the establishment, which he'd inherited upon his master's death.

"Step inside!" he invited. "Admission is only ten zeni!"

Coins in hand, the audience lined up outside the curtain. The Rat leapt off the platform to usher them inside; his a.s.sistant, a hugely muscled giant, collected admission fees. Hirata joined the queue. Seeing his empty hands, the giant growled, frowning.

"It's you I've come to see," Hirata told the Rat.

"Ah, Hirata-san." The Rat's beady eyes took on a gleam of avaricious cunning; he rubbed his hairy paws together. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need some information."

The Rat, who roamed Edo and the provinces in an ongoing hunt for new freaks, also collected news. He supplemented his income by selling choice information. While a police officer, Hirata had caught the Rat during a raid on an illegal brothel, and the Rat had bartered his way out of an arrest by telling Hirata the whereabouts of an outlaw who had eluded Edo police for years. Since then, Hirata had often used the Rat as an informant. His prices were high, but his service reliable.

"Better come inside," the Rat said now. "Show's about to start, and I have to announce the acts." He spoke with an odd, rustic accent. "We can talk during them."

Hirata followed him into the building, where the audience had gathered in a narrow room with a curtained stage. The Rat jumped onto this. Extolling the wonders of what was to come, he whipped the crowd into a noisy, eager frenzy, then announced, "And now I present the Kanto Dwarf!"

The curtain opened and out walked a grotesque figure, half the height of a normal man, with a large head, stunted body, and short limbs. Dressed in bright theatrical robes, he sang a song from a popular Kabuki drama. The audience cheered. The Rat joined Hirata at the side of the stage.

"I'm looking for an itinerant drug peddler named Choyei," Hirata said, relating the meager background material that existed on the man.

The Rat's feral grin flashed. "So you want to know who sold and who bought the poison that killed the shogun's concubine. Not easy, finding someone who doesn't want to be found. Plenty of hiding places in Edo."

Hirata wasn't fooled. The Rat always began negotiations by stressing the difficulty of obtaining a particular piece of information. "Thirty coppers if you find him by tomorrow," Hirata said. "After that, twenty."

On stage, the dwarf's song ended. "Excuse me," said the Rat. He bounded onto the stage and announced, "The Living Bodhisattva!" Amid more cheers, a woman appeared. She wore a sleeveless garment to show off her three arms. She struck poses reminiscent of statues of the many-armed Buddhist deity of mercy, then invited audience members to bet on which of three overturned cups hid a peanut. The Rat rejoined Hirata. "A hundred coppers, no matter when I find your man."

Other acts followed: a dancing fat man; a hermaphrodite singing the male and female parts of a duet. The negotiations continued. At last Hirata said, "Seventy coppers if you find him within two days, fifty thereafter, and nothing if I find Choyei first. That's my final offer."

"All right, but I want an advance of twenty coppers to cover my expenses," the Rat said.

Hirata nodded, handing over the coins. The Rat stuffed them into the pouch at his waist, then went to announce the final act. "And now, the event you've all been waiting for: f.u.kurokujo, G.o.d of wisdom!"

Out walked a boy about ten years old. His features were as tiny as a baby's, his eyes closed, his head elongated into a high dome that resembled that of the legendary G.o.d. Gasps of surprise came from the audience.

"For an added charge of five zeni, f.u.kurokujo will tell your fortune!" cried the Rat. Eagerly the audience pressed forward. The Rat said to Hirata, "To seal our bargain, I'll give you a free fortune." He led Hirata onto the stage and placed Hirata's hand on the boy's forehead. "Oh, great f.u.kurokujo, what do you see in this man's future?"

Eyes still closed, the "G.o.d" said in a high, childish voice, "I see a beautiful woman. I see danger and death." As the audience emitted oohs and ahs, he keened, "Beware, beware!"

The memory of Lady Ichiteru came rushing back to Hirata. He saw her lovely, impa.s.sive face; felt her hand upon him; heard again the wild music of the puppet theater underscoring his desire. He experienced anew the stirring mixture of l.u.s.t and humiliation. Even as he recalled her trickery and the penalty for consorting with the shogun's concubine, he yearned for Ichiteru with a frightening pa.s.sion. He knew he must see her again-if not to repeat the interview and salvage his professional reputation, then to see where their erotic encounter would lead.

14.

The gilt crest above the gate of Lord Miyagi Shigeru of Tosa Province represented a pair of swans facing each other, their wings spread around them in a feathered circle, touching at the tips. Sano arrived at dusk, when homebound samurai trooped through the darkening streets. An elderly manservant led Sano into the mansion, where he left his shoes and swords in the entryway. Edo's daimyo district had been rebuilt since the Great Fire; hence, the Miyagi estate dated from a recent period. Yet the interior of the house seemed ancient, the woodwork of the corridor dark with age and probably salvaged from an older structure. A faint smell of decay hung in the air, as if from centuries of moisture, smoke, and human breath. In the reception room, an eerie melody ended as the servant ushered Sano inside and announced, "Honorable Lord and Lady Miyagi, I present Sano Ichiro, the shogun's sosakan-sama."

Four people occupied the room: a gray-haired samurai, reclining on silk cushions; a middle-aged woman who knelt beside him; and two pretty young maidens seated together, one holding a samisen, the other a wooden flute. Sano knelt, bowed, and addressed the man.

"Lord Miyagi, I'm investigating the murder of the shogun's concubine, and I must ask you some questions."

For a moment, everyone regarded Sano with silent wariness. Cylindrical white lanterns burned, giving the room an intimate, late-night ambience. Charcoal braziers warmed away the autumn chill. The Miyagi swan insignia was repeated in carved roundels on the ceiling beams and pillars, in the gold crests on the lacquer tables and cabinets and the man's brown silk dressing gown. Sano had the distinct sense of a self-contained world, whose inhabitants perceived other people as outsiders. An aura of perfume, wintergreen hair oil, and a barely perceptible musky odor formed a coc.o.o.n around them, as if they exuded their own atmosphere. Then Lord Miyagi spoke.

"May we offer you some refreshment?" He gestured toward a low table, which held teapot, cups, smoking tray, and sake decanter, plus a lavish spread of fruit, cakes, and sushi.

Observing social convention, Sano politely refused, was persuaded, then graciously accepted.

"I wondered whether you would find out about me." Lord Miyagi had a thin, lanky body and long face. His downward-tilted eyes were moist and luminous, his full mouth softly wet. Loose skin wattled his neck and cheeks. His drawling voice reflected his languid posture. "Well, I suppose I might have expected that my connection with Harume would become known eventually; the metsuke is most efficient. I am just glad that it happened after her death, when it can hardly matter anymore. Ask me whatever you please."

Preserving the possible advantage of keeping Lady Harume's diary a secret, Sano did not correct the daimyo's impression that Tokugawa spies had uncovered the relationship. "Perhaps we should talk alone," Sano said, eyeing Lady Miyagi. He needed the intimate details of the affair, which Lord Miyagi might want to hide from his wife.

However, Lord Miyagi said, "My wife will stay. She already knows all about Lady Harume and myself."

"We are cousins, joined in a marriage of convenience," Lady Miyagi explained. Indeed she did bear a striking family resemblance to her husband, with the same skin, facial features, and thin figure. Yet her posture was rigid, her eyes a flat, l.u.s.terless brown, her unpainted mouth firmly set. She had a deep, mannish voice. While everything about Lord Miyagi bespoke weakness and sensuality, she seemed a stern, dry husk within her brocade kimono. "There is no need for us to keep secrets from each other."

Then she added, "But perhaps we do require a bit more privacy. Snowflake? Wren?" She beckoned to the maidens, who rose and knelt before her. "These are my husband's concubines," Lady Miyagi said, surprising Sano, who had a.s.sumed they were the couple's daughters.

With a motherly pat to the cheek of each girl, she said, "You may go now. Continue practicing your music."

"Yes, Honorable Mistress," the girls chorused. They bowed and left the room.

"So you knew that your husband was secretly meeting Harume in Asakusa?" Sano asked Lady Miyagi.

"Of course." The woman's mouth curved in a smile, baring her cosmetically blackened teeth. "I am in charge of all my lord's amus.e.m.e.nts." Beside her, Lord Miyagi nodded complacently. "I select his concubines and courtesans. Last summer I made an acquaintance with Lady Harume and introduced her to my husband. I organized their every rendezvous, sending Harume letters telling her when to be at the inn."

Some wives went to extraordinary lengths to serve their men, Sano thought. While this arrangement caused him a p.r.i.c.kle of distaste, he wished Reiko possessed some of Lady Miyagi's willingness to please. "You took a big risk by sporting with the shogun's concubine," he told Lord Miyagi.

"I find much enjoyment in danger." The daimyo stretched luxuriously. His tongue came out, moistening his lips with saliva.

A true devotee of fleshly delights, he seemed acutely conscious of every physical sensation. He wore his robe as though he felt the soft caress of silk against his skin. Picking up a tobacco pipe from the metal tray, he drew on it with slow deliberation, sighing while he expelled the smoke. In his frank pleasure, he appeared almost childlike. Yet Sano saw a sinister shadow behind the veiled eyes. He recalled what he knew of the Miyagi.

They were a minor clan, more renowned for s.e.xual debauchery than political leadership. Rumors of adultery, incest, and perversion haunted both male and female members, though their wealth purchased freedom from legal consequences. Apparently the present daimyo followed the family tradition-which had sometimes included violence.

Addressing both husband and wife, Sano said, "Did you know that Lady Harume planned to tattoo herself?"

Lord Miyagi nodded and smoked. His wife answered, "Yes, we did. It was my husband's wish that Harume prove her devotion by cutting a symbol of love for him upon her body. I wrote the letter asking her to do so."

Sano wondered whether Lady Miyagi's stiff bearing reflected a s.e.xual coldness that precluded normal marital relations between her and her husband. Certainly she possessed none of the physical attractions valued by a man such as him. But perhaps she pursued her own carnal thrills by procuring her husband's; she, too, was a member of the infamous clan. From the cloth pouch at his waist, Sano removed the black lacquer bottle whose ink had poisoned Harume. "Did she get this from you, then?"

"Yes, that is the bottle we sent with the letter," Lady Miyagi said calmly. "I bought it. My husband wrote Harume's name on top."

So they both had handled the bottle. "And when was this?" Sano asked.

Lady Miyagi considered. "Four days ago, I believe."

That would have been before Lieutenant Kushida's suspension from duty in the Large Interior, but after Lady Harume's complaint. But Kushida claimed to have had no prior knowledge of the tattoo, and Sano didn't yet know about Lady Ichiteru. Presumably Hirata would obtain the information. For now, the Miyagi seemed the ones with the best opportunity to poison the ink.

"Were you on good terms with Lady Harume?" Sano asked Lord Miyagi.

The daimyo shrugged languorously. "We had no quarrels, if that's what you mean. I loved her as much as I'm capable of loving anyone. I was getting what I wanted from the affair, and I presumed she was, too."

"What was it that she wanted?" The diary explained how Lord Miyagi achieved gratification, but Sano was curious to know why the beautiful concubine had risked her life for sordid, joyless encounters with an unattractive man.

For the first time, Lord Miyagi looked uncomfortable; his Adam's apple bobbed in the loose flesh of his throat, and he looked to his wife. Lady Miyagi said, "Harume had a craving for adventure, sosakan-sama. The forbidden liaison with my husband satisfied it."

"And you?" Sano asked. "How did you feel about Lady Harume and the affair?"

The woman smiled again-a curiously unpleasant expression that emphasized her homeliness. "I was grateful to Harume, as I am to all my husband's women. I consider them my partners in serving his pleasure."

Sano suppressed a shudder of revulsion. Lady Miyagi reminded him of a Yoshiwara brothel owner, catering to clients' s.e.xual whims with professional skill. She didn't even seem to care how vulgar or perverted she might appear. From down the corridor drifted faint strains of music, and the concubines' voices, singing. Sano suddenly became aware of how quiet the house was. He heard none of the sounds usually a.s.sociated with a provincial lord's estate-no troops patrolling; no officials conducting business; no servants at work. The solidly built mansion shut out street noises, reinforcing Sano's impression of a closed world. What an odd household this was!

"So you see," the daimyo said with a tired sigh, "neither my wife nor I had reason to kill Lady Harume, and we didn't. I shall sadly miss the pleasure she provided me. And my dear wife has never been jealous about my liaisons with Harume or anyone else." Raising himself from his cushions, he made a weak gesture toward the refreshment tray.

Quickly Lady Miyagi said, "Let me help you, Cousin," and poured tea for him. She put the cup in his left hand, a persimmon in his right. For a moment, their arms joined in a circle, and Sano was struck by their resemblance to the Miyagi double-swan crest. A mated pair, mirror images of each other, wings touching, locked in a strange but mutually agreeable union...

The musky odor grew stronger, as though produced by the couple's contact. Sano perceived between them a deep, emotional connection that did not exclude pa.s.sion. Weighing the statements they'd given, he found that he believed Lady Miyagi's story of accepting and even abetting her husband's infidelity, but Lord Miyagi's claim of love for Harume rang less true. Had she somehow threatened the marriage? Had one or both spouses wished her dead?

"Who else had access to the ink bottle before it reached Lady Harume?" Sano said.

"The messenger who carried it to Edo Castle," said Lady Miyagi, "as well as everyone in the house. The retainers; the servants; Snowflake and Wren. When I brought the bottle home, my husband wasn't here, so I left it on his desk while I attended to other business. Some hours pa.s.sed before we sent it off. Anyone could have tampered with the ink without our knowledge."

Was she simply relating facts, or shielding herself and Lord Miyagi by directing suspicion toward other residents of the estate? Perhaps one of them had borne a grudge against Harume. "My detectives shall come and question everyone in your household," Sano said.

Nodding indifferently, Lord Miyagi ate his fruit. The juice ran down his chin; he licked his fingers. "As you wish," Lady Miyagi said.

And now for the delicate, critical part of the interrogation, Sano thought. "Have you any children?" he asked the couple.

Neither husband nor wife altered expression, yet Sano's trained senses detected a sudden pressure in the air, as though it had expanded to push against the walls. Lady Miyagi sat motionless, her gaze fixed straight ahead, a tightness about her jaw muscles. Lord Miyagi said, "No. We do not." Regret permeated his words. "Our lack of sons has forced me to name a nephew as my heir."

From the strained atmosphere between the Miyagi couple, Sano guessed that he'd touched a vulnerable spot in their marriage. He suspected that each harbored different feelings about their childlessness. And the answer to his question disappointed Sano. Harume's pillow book portrayed Lord Miyagi as a voyeur who preferred self-stimulation to bedding a woman. Did this tendency, combined with his lack of offspring, mean that he was impotent? Was the shogun-weak, sickly, and inclined toward manly love-the father of Harume's child after all?

Sano dreaded both telling Tokugawa Tsunayoshi that his unborn heir had died with the concubine, and the added pressure to solve the murder case. If he failed, the shogun's unreliable affection wouldn't save him from disgraceful death. And so far, this interview had not incriminated Lord or Lady Miyagi. Yet Sano would not give up hope.

"Lord Miyagi, I understand that Harume would undress and touch herself, while you watched through the window," Sano said bluntly. He couldn't spare the daimyo's feelings at the expense of his own salvation.

"My, but the metsuke are efficient," Lord Miyagi drawled. "Yes, that is correct. But I fail to see how my private habits are any of your business." Lady Miyagi neither moved nor spoke, and the couple didn't look at each other, but hostility radiated from them both: Though open about the daimyo's affairs, they resented Sano's quest for details.

"Did you ever penetrate Lady Harume?" Sano asked.

The daimyo gave a nervous chuckle, looking at his wife. When she offered no help, he said feebly, "Really, sosakan-sama, this intrusion verges on disrespect toward me, and Lady Harume as well. What bearing can our relations have upon her death?"

"In a murder investigation, anything about the victim's life can prove significant," Sano said. He couldn't mention Harume's pregnancy before first informing the shogun, who would be angry to hear such important news via gossip instead of directly from Sano. "Answer the question, please."

Lord Miyagi sighed, then shook his head, eyes downcast. "All right. No-I did not penetrate Harume."

"Of course he didn't!" Lady Miyagi's outburst startled Sano, as well as Lord Miyagi, who jerked upright. Glaring at Sano, she demanded, "Do you think my husband would be so foolish as to violate the shogun's concubine? And risk death? He never touched her; not even once. He wouldn't!"

Wouldn't-or couldn't? Here was the pa.s.sion Sano had sensed in Lady Miyagi, though he didn't understand her vehemence. "You say that you organized your husband's affair with Harume. Aside from the danger, why does the thought of his touching her bother you?"

"It doesn't." With an obvious effort, Lady Miyagi regained her composure, though an unattractive flush stained her cheeks. "I believe I've already explained my att.i.tude toward my lord's women," she said coldly.

In the ensuing silence, the daimyo shrank into his cushions as if he wished to disappear behind them. His fingers played with a fold of his robe, savoring the feel of silk. Lady Miyagi sat rigidly still, biting her lips. From down the corridor came the concubines' tinkly laughter. Sano could tell that husband and wife were lying about something: their relationship with Harume, or their feelings toward her? Did they already know about the pregnancy because the daimyo was responsible for it? And why hide the truth? To avoid scandal and punishment for the forbidden liaison-or murder charges?

"It's getting late, sosakan-sama," Lady Miyagi said at last. Her husband nodded, relieved that she'd taken charge of the situation. "If you have any further questions, perhaps you would be so good as to return some other time."

Sano bowed. "I may do that," he said, rising. On impulse, he said to Lord Miyagi, "What inn did you and Lady Harume use for your meetings?"

Lord Miyagi hesitated, then answered, "The Tsubame, in Asakusa."

As the manservant escorted Sano from the room, he looked back to see the Miyagi watching him with grave inscrutability. Once outside the gate, he could almost feel their strange, private world close against him, like a membrane sealing shut. A creeping, unclean sensation lingered, as though contact with that world had polluted his spirit. Yet Sano must probe its secrets, by indirect means if necessary. Perhaps when Hirata traced the poison dealer, the search would lead back to the Miyagi. And there was another side to the story of Lord Miyagi and Lady Harume's affair: hers. An investigation into her life might provide answers that would avert the threat of failure and death that shadowed Sano. But now his thoughts turned homeward.

Mounting his horse, Sano headed up the boulevard. Lanterns burned at the guarded portals of daimyo estates. The moon rose in the evening sky over Edo Castle, perched on its hill, where Reiko waited. The, thought of her beauty and youthful innocence came to Sano like a purifying force that washed away the contamination of his encounter with the Miyagi. Perhaps tonight he and Reiko could settle yesterday's quarrel and begin their marriage anew.

15.

The baying of dogs echoed across Edo, as if a thousand beasts heralded the hour that bore their name. Night submerged the city in wintry darkness, extinguishing lights, vacating streets. Moonlight turned the Sumida River into a ribbon of liquid silver. At the end of a pier far upstream from the city rose a pavilion. Lanterns suspended from the upturned eaves of its tile roof illuminated banners bearing the Tokugawa crest and walls decorated with carved gilt-and-lacquer dragons. The water reflected its glittering, inverted image. Soldiers stood watch on the pier and in small craft anch.o.r.ed off the forested sh.o.r.eline, guarding the safety and privacy of the pavilion's lone occupant.