Reiko wrinkled her nose at the sour smell of the radish as she imagined Makino coupling with a shape on the futon. She noticed a shelf filled with numerous scrolls. Opening some, she found that they were pictures of couples engaged in erotic acts. Stains discolored the pictures.
Below the shelf stood two lacquer chests. Reiko looked inside them. One contained wooden clubs padded with leather, atop coiled ropes. Makino’s habits must have included ritual violence during sex. The other chest contained nine phalluses of different sizes, each realistically carved from jade and resting in a slot in the chest’s padded lining. A tenth, empty slot had once contained a huge phallus. Reiko recalled what Sano had told her about the examination of Senior Elder Makino’s corpse. Could the missing phallus have inflicted the anal injury-and the fatal beating? If so, then somebody who’d known about this chamber had killed Makino.
Perhaps that somebody was one of the women upon whom Reiko had come to spy.
Suddenly Reiko heard stealthy footsteps approaching along the corridor. She froze in alarm. The door of Makino’s room slid open. She mustn’t let anyone find her here! She yanked on the shelves, closing the entrance to the secret chamber, sealing herself inside. The footsteps padded across the floor. Reiko saw a finger protrude between the shelves and press the indentation. Her heart lurched as the secret door swung open. Quickly she stepped behind it.
A samurai strode into the chamber, carrying a long bundle. Reiko held her breath, peered cautiously around the door, and watched him kneel before the chest that contained the jade phalluses. He lifted the lid, then unwrapped his bundle. It was a quilt folded around a cylindrical object. This he set inside the empty slot in the chest. Then he shut the lid and rose. Leaving the room, he passed very near Reiko. She recognized him from Sano’s description of Tamura, chief retainer to Senior Elder Makino. The shelves pivoted shut. Reiko breathed a sigh of fervent relief as she listened to Tamura leave the room.
On her first day here, she’d already discovered evidence that pointed away from the warring factions and toward the suspects in Makino’s inner circle. If the phallus was the weapon used on Makino, then Tamura’s behavior suggested that he was the killer. He could have hidden the weapon after his crime and thought that now was a good time to replace it. Reiko couldn’t wait to tell Sano.
But now she noticed that the music had stopped. She could no longer hear the maids giggling-they must have gone. She mustn’t linger.
She slipped out of the secret room and pivoted the shelf back into position. When she left the private chambers, the guards eyed her suspiciously. She hurried along paths, between buildings, in the direction of the kitchen, so elated that the prospect of more toil barely fazed her. But as she crossed a garden, Yasue appeared so suddenly that she seemed to materialize out of thin air. She scowled at Reiko, grasped her arm, and demanded, “Where have you been?”
“I got lost,” Reiko lied.
Yasue snorted in disbelief. “Snooping around, I’d say.”
She yanked the stick from under her sash and smote Reiko three hard blows across the back. Reiko fell on hands and knees, crying out in pain and angry protest.
“I’ll be watching you,” Yasue said. She grabbed Reiko’s collar and hauled her to her feet. “Remember that when you get the urge to snoop again.” Her stick prodded Reiko along the paths. “Now I’ll give you enough work to keep you too busy to cause trouble.”
She’d already made an enemy, Reiko realized unhappily. She hoped she could last long enough here to discover the truth about Senior Elder Makino’s death.
15
If you must investigate that actor, shouldn’t you start at the place where he performs?” Ibe asked Sano as they and their entourage rode through the Saru-waka-cho theater district. “We just passed the Nakamura-za, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He gestured toward a theater on the avenue. Signs on its façade pictured Koheiji and proclaimed the title of the play: Amorous Adventures of an Edo Samurai. Men and women lined up at ticket booths there and at the other theaters. Song, laughter, and applause issued from upper-story windows.
“We’ll start at the place where Koheiji started his career,” Sano said.
He had an intuition that he would learn more there, but he didn’t bother trying to explain this to Ibe or Lord Matsudaira’s men, who wouldn’t want him chasing hunches instead of pursuing the suspects they wanted him to incriminate. He led the group into Kobiki-cho, a lesser theatrical quarter. Here, the theaters were small and shabby, the audiences exclusively male. Men crowded the teahouses, drinking sake, playing cards, and wagering on cockfights. Drummers led more men through the streets in search of amusement. Teahouse proprietors rushed out to greet Sano and his entourage.
“Would you like a companion for the night?”
“I can set you up with the handsomest actors!”
“One piece of gold, and he’s yours from the final curtain until daybreak of the morning after!”
The Kobiki-cho district was famous as a gathering place for devotees of manly love, Sano knew. It generated more revenue from male prostitution than from ticket sales. Boys in their teens swarmed the street, offering free tickets, luring men to their plays. Men called propositions to youths who leaned out second-story windows. Sano politely declined all offers, although a few of his companions eyed the boys with interest. Maybe some actors enjoyed manly sex as much as did their suitors, but Sano knew that young, unknown performers earned so little that if they wanted to eat, they must sell themselves. Hence, Kobiki-cho was a carnal paradise for wealthy men who craved boys.
At the Owari Theater, Sano and his party dismounted; stableboys took charge of their horses. Police officers loitered outside the dingy wooden building, ready to quell the riots that often occurred when men quarreled over their favorite actors. Entering the theater, Sano found a play in progress. On a raised stage lit by skylights and decorated with a painted backdrop of a forest scene, an actor in peasant garb sang a soulful duet with an onnagata-female impersonator-dressed as a courtesan. Musicians played an off-key accompaniment. Men filled the seats along the walls and compartments in front of the stage. Raucous cheers burst from the audience. Smoke from tobacco pipes fouled the air.
As the actors sang, a samurai in the audience rose. “Ebisuya-san!” he called. “Here’s a token of my love for you!”
He drew his dagger, hacked off his little finger, and hurled it at the onnagata. He tried to leap onto the stage, but the police hauled him away. No one seemed much bothered by the incident, which was not uncommon in Kobiki-cho. The performance continued without pause. Afterward, the audience straggled out of the theater. Sano led his watchdogs and detectives to an elderly man who stood below the stage.
“Are you the proprietor?” Sano asked him.
“Yes, master.” The man had shoulders drawn up to his ears; white tufts of hair circled his bald pate. He yelled at the actors lounging and smoking on the stage: “Don’t just stand there-change the set for the next performance!”
The actors, who apparently doubled as stagehands, moved the backdrop. Ebisuya, the female impersonator, clenched his tobacco pipe between his rouged lips as he worked. The proprietor said to Sano, “What can I do for you?” He spoke courteously, but his expression was sour.
Sano introduced himself. “I’m investigating the affairs of the actor Koheiji. I want your help.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know any actor by that name.”
“Yes, he does,” Ebisuya told Sano. He’d dropped his ladylike falsetto voice, and his deep, male tone contrasted bizarrely with his female costume. He jerked his chin toward the proprietor. “His memory’s gone to rot. Koheiji worked here before he moved to the Nakamura-za and switched from girl roles to samurai roles.”