Inside the hospital were thirty mattresses on wooden pallets, all occupied. Three nuns bathed the sick, served them tea, and massaged backs. Sano walked along the rows, inspecting the patients. They were male and female, all middle-aged or old.

“Are there any other patients elsewhere?” Sano asked a nun.

“No, master,” she said.

“Has a young novice monk named Pious Truth been recently treated here?”

“No, master.”

A physician in a dark blue coat entered, knelt beside a bed containing an elderly man, and spooned liquid from a bowl into the patient’s mouth.

Sano walked over to the doctor and asked, “What ails your patient?”

“He has a fever,” the doctor said, adding, “I’m giving him willow-wood juice.”

This was a standard remedy. “Do you ever perform medical experiments on the sect members?” Sano asked.

“Never.”

The doctor looked genuinely shocked by Sano’s suggestion that he would endanger his patients’ lives. The nuns came over to join them, and Sano asked the group, “Has anyone from here disappeared recently?”

“No, master,” said the doctor. The old man in bed mumbled something.

“What did you say?” Sano asked.

“Chie,” said the old man. His bony cheeks were flushed, his eyes dazed. “She’s one of the nurses. Used to take care of me. Haven’t seen her in days.”

“He’s delirious,” the doctor told Sano apologetically. “There has never been a nurse named Chie here.”

Sano looked at the nuns, who murmured in agreement. “Has Haru ever been treated here?” Sano said.

“Yes,” said the doctor. “Haru is a patient of Dr. Miwa, our chief physician. Her spiritual disharmony causes bad behavior.”

Sano considered the possibility that everyone at the temple was part of a conspiracy bent on hiding secrets from him and smearing Haru’s reputation, but these people seemed honest. After leaving the hospital, he wandered through the temple precinct. He observed nuns and monks tending the gardens and washing dishes in the kitchen. They appeared as normal as the clergy at any other temple, and their activities mundane. Sano continued on to the orphanage. He thought of his interview with Haru’s parents, and guilt tugged at him, because he was about to do something else he hadn’t mentioned to Reiko.

Children’s laughter and shouts greeted his entry into the garden surrounding the orphanage. Under the supervision of two nuns, the thirty-one orphans were running, jumping, and skipping in play. They ranged in age from a toddler, who reminded Sano of Masahiro, to two girls of ten or eleven years tossing a leather ball with some younger boys. One of the boys missed a catch, and the ball flew toward Sano. He caught it. The group turned to him, wary at the sight of a stranger.

“Watch,” Sano said.

He kicked the ball high in the air. The children squealed in delight, and a boy caught the ball. He clumsily imitated Sano’s kick, booting the ball into some bushes.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Sano said. With his coaching, the children mastered the trick and began a lively contest to see who could kick the ball highest. Someone sent the ball soaring over the orphanage roof. The boys ran to retrieve it, and Sano turned to the two girls.

“Is Haru a friend of yours?” he asked.

The girls moved close together, suddenly shy. The taller, who was delicate and pretty, blurted, “We don’t like Haru. Nobody does.”

“Why not?” Sano asked.

“She’s mean,” the other girl said, her round face puckering in dislike. “If we don’t do what she says, she hits us. Um, the littler ones are afraid of her because she picks on them.”

Sano listened in consternation. Their story contradicted the one Haru had given Reiko, who he knew would be upset to learn that the orphans Haru had professed to love considered her a bully. Sano also knew that these bad character references could help him convict Haru. If she was cruel to children, she might have killed the little boy found in the fire. More mixed feelings plagued Sano. He was eager to solve the case, yet disturbed to think of himself and Reiko compiling evidence for and against Haru like warlords stocking arsenals for a battle. Although he didn’t relish the idea of losing, he wondered if Reiko was right about the Black Lotus in one respect.

It appeared that Haru had offended many people here. Maybe they were seeking revenge, as she’d claimed, by implicating her in murder and arson.

The boys had returned with the ball. One of them said, “It’s no use telling the nuns or priests how Haru treats us. They won’t stop her.”

“Why not?” Sano said.

“Haru is High Priest Anraku’s favorite. She can do whatever she wants.”

Sano saw that he must speak with Anraku. The high priest had been secluded in prayer rituals during his previous visits to the temple, and he’d willingly postponed an interview because he’d considered Anraku neither a witness nor a suspect, but now it was imperative that he question the high priest about Haru.

“I’m trying to find out who set the fire,” Sano said to the children. “Do you know anything that might help me?”

The boys shook their heads. Glances passed between the two girls. “Haru did it,” said the pretty one.

Children often made up stories and repeated things they’d heard, Sano knew; as a father, he felt a certain responsibility toward these children who had no parents. He sent the boys off to play ball, then asked the girls, “What are your names?”

“Yukiko,” said the pretty one.

“Hanako,” said the round-faced one.

“Yukiko-chan and Hanako-chan, it’s wrong to accuse someone unless you have facts to prove your accusation,” Sano said. “Do you think Haru set the fire just because other people say so?”

Again the girls looked at each other. Hanako said, “Um, the night before the fire, we went to bed in the dormitory, but instead of going to sleep, we watched Haru.”

“She sneaks out at night all the time,” said Yukiko. “We wanted to follow her and see where she went.”

“We thought that if we could catch her doing something really bad, we could, um, report her,” Hanako said. “High Priest Anraku would find out that she’s no good and expel her.”

Sano was startled by the vindictive cunning of these innocent-looking girls, and his expression must have revealed disapproval, because Yukiko said hastily, “Oh, we wouldn’t really have reported Haru. We were just going to tell her that we would unless she stopped hurting us.”

Their childish blackmail scheme disconcerted Sano even more. How early they’d learned the ways of the world! “What happened?” he asked.

“When the temple bell rang at midnight, Haru got out of bed and left the dormitory,” Yukiko said. “We went after her.”

“She tiptoed through the precinct,” Hanako said. “She kept looking around like she was, um, afraid to be seen.”

“We followed her down the path,” Yukiko said, “then Hanako got scared.”

Hanako said defensively, “I knew that if Haru saw us, she would be angry. She would, um, be even meaner to us. So I made Yukiko go back to the dormitory with me.”

“Then you didn’t see what Haru did?” Sano said.

“No,” Yukiko said, “but we followed her as far as the garden outside that cottage that burned down.”

“She acted sneaky, like she was doing something wrong,” Hanako said. “She must have set the fire.”

Maybe Haru had gone to the cottage to meet Commander Oyama, Sano thought. If so, what had happened between them? How did the murdered woman and boy fit into this scenario?

“Did you see anyone else near the cottage?” Sano asked.

“No, master,” said Yukiko.

“Did you hear any unusual noises?”

The girls shook their heads. If they were telling the truth-and Sano saw no indications otherwise-then this was confirmation of Abbess Junketsu-in’s claim that Haru had sneaked out of the dormitory that night.

“What did you do then?” Sano said.