“No,” Jozan said. “The others live away from Edo.”

“I’m sorry to say that I have bad news,” Sano said. “Ejima-san’s death was murder.”

A gasp of surprise issued from Lady Ejima. “But I thought he was killed in an accident during a horse race.”

Jozan shook his head, dazed. “What happened?”

“He was a killed by a death-touch. Someone has apparently mastered the ancient martial arts technique and used it on your father.” Sano watched the widow and adopted son. Lady Ejima’s pretty face took on a frozen, opaque look. Jozan blinked. Sano wondered if they were upset or thinking how the murder would affect them.

“Who was it?” Jozan said. “Who killed my father?”

“That’s yet to be determined,” Sano said. “I’m investigating Ejima-san’s murder and I need your cooperation.”

“I’m at your service.” Jozan made an expansive gesture, as though glad to give Sano anything he asked.

“I, too, will do whatever I can to help find my husband’s murderer,” said Lady Ejima.

Jozan’s features crumpled. He averted his face, hiding it behind his sleeve. “Please forgive me,” he said as a sob choked him. “My poor father’s death was enough of a shock, but now this! It’s a terrible tragedy.”

Lady Ejima seized Jozan’s arm and yanked it away from his face. “You hypocrite! What do you care how he died, as long as you inherit his money?”

“Shut up! Get away from me!” Jozan flung the woman off him and turned to Sano, obviously aghast that the chamberlain of Japan should hear him accused of such lack of filial devotion. “Please pay no attention to her. She’s hysterical.”

Sano observed that Jozan’s eyes were devoid of tears and black with fury at Lady Ejima.

“My dearest, darling husband, gone forever!” she wailed. “I loved him so much. How shall I live without him?”

Jozan scowled at her. “You’re the hypocrite. You pretended to love my father, but you only married him because of his rank and wealth.”

“That’s not true!” Lady Ejima shouted. “You were always jealous because I came between you and him. Now you’re trying to slander me!”

Sano reflected that the culprit in a murder case was often to be found within the victim’s family. Jozan and Lady Ejima seemed unlikely to know the technique of dim-mak, but a past case involving a murder in the imperial capital had taught Sano that martial arts skills came in unexpected-looking packages.

“That’s enough out of you,” Jozan said, his patience snapped. “Leave the room.”

“You don’t give the orders around here,” Lady Ejima huffed. “I’ll stay. Any business regarding my husband is my concern.”

“Actually, I want you both to stay,” Sano said.

Lady Ejima gave Jozan a smug, vindicated smile. He hissed air out his mouth, flung her a look that promised she would be sorry later for insulting him, and turned, shamefaced, to Sano. “A thousand apologies for our disgraceful behavior,” he said. “We meant you no offense. How can we help you?”

“I need to know who was with Ejima and every place that he went during the past two days,” Sano said. “Can you reconstruct his movements for me?”

“Yes,” Jozan said. “I served as his secretary. I kept his schedule.”

“Let’s start with the time before the horse race.”

“My father and I had breakfast together, then worked on reports and correspondence in his office here at home.”

“How did he spend the previous night?” Sano asked.

Lady Ejima answered: “He was with me. In our bedchamber.”

“The whole night?”

“Well, no. He came home very late.”

“We went to a banquet at the chief judicial councilor’s estate,” Jozan said.

Sano saw the scope of his investigation expand to include many people besides Ejima’s family and the horse race crowd. “And before that?”

“We spent the day at metsuke headquarters.” This was a complex of offices in the palace. “My father had meetings with subordinates and appointments with visitors.”

More questioning revealed that Ejima had spent the previous night with his wife and the evening at another banquet.

“In the afternoon, we went into town so that my father could meet with informants,” Jozan continued. “It wouldn’t do for them to come here or to headquarters.”

Sano understood why they wanted to keep their role as informants a secret: They were bakufu underlings hired to report on their superiors, who would punish them harshly for spying. “Where did these meetings take place?”

“At six different teahouses in Nihonbashi.”

The investigation now expanded across even more territory, to include countless potential suspects. “I need the locations of those teahouses,” Sano said. “Also the names of everyone that Ejima saw.”

“Certainly.”

Jozan fetched his record book. Sano skimmed the neatly written characters. Jozan had recorded the names of the fifteen banquet guests, the twenty men who had meetings and appointments with his father, and Ejima’s informants.

“Did you see any of these people touch your father here?” Sano tapped a finger against his head where the fingerprint bruise had appeared on Ejima.

“No. But I wasn’t watching him every moment. I suppose they could have. And these appointments were private.” Jozan pointed to the names of three men Ejima had seen at metsuke headquarters and of all the informants. “He talked to them alone, while I stayed outside his office and the teahouses.”

“Who else besides the people listed in this book was around your father during the past two days?” Sano said.

Jozan visibly quailed at the prospect of trying to recollect. “His staff. Servants and guards, here and in the palace. People at the teahouses.”

And the crowds in the city streets, Sano thought. “Write down everybody you can remember. Send me the list.”

“Certainly,” Jozan said, daunted but game.

Sano addressed Lady Ejima: “Can you think of anyone else who could have touched your husband?” She shook her head. Sano didn’t fail to note that she and Jozan had spent time alone with Ejima and had had the best opportunity to touch him. “Did any of the people Ejima saw have any reason to want him dead?” Sano asked them both.

Jozan’s expression turned dubious; he clearly didn’t want to accuse important officials. “Not that I know of.”

“I want the metsuke records on everyone who’s been executed, demoted, exiled, or otherwise harmed as a result of investigations by Ejima since he became chief. Get them to my office today.”

Jozan hesitated; the metsuke was loath to turn over confidential documents, share secrets, and diminish their unique power. But he couldn’t refuse an order from the shogun’s second-in-command. “Certainly.”

And Sano thought him smart enough to realize he was a suspect and it would behoove him to cast suspicion elsewhere. Sano foresaw much tedious work investigating people who’d had contact with Ejima or grudges against him. Fortunately, he could delegate much of it.

“I must borrow your records,” he told Jozan, who nodded. Upon taking a second look at them, he recognized many names. One jumped out at him: Captain Nakai, a soldier in the Tokugawa army. Nakai had fought for Lord Matsudaira during the faction war. Sano recalled that he was a star martial artist who’d distinguished himself by killing forty-eight enemy troops. And he’d had a private appointment with Ejima.

Outside on the street, after thanking Jozan and Lady Ejima for their cooperation, Sano said to his detectives, “The officials who were at the banquet all live here in Hibiya or inside the castle. I’ll drop in on them, then go to metsuke headquarters to talk to Ejima’s subordinates. Marume-sanand Fukida-san, you’ll come with me. In the meantime-” He handed the record book to another aide, a young samurai named Tachibana, also a former detective. “You and the others round up these men who had private appointments with Ejima and send them to my estate.” Another advantage to being chamberlain was that almost everybody’s presence was Sano’s to command. He would save the informants for later. “Make Captain Nakai your top priority.”