The night Senior Elder Makino died, Agemaki had exulted in having him helpless at her mercy. Such savage joy of venting her rage at him for the humiliation he’d caused her! In some ways his death hadn’t been as good as she’d hoped, but she’d decided that things had turned out for the best.

“No matter what Koheiji did to me or how badly I felt toward him, I would miss him if he died,” said Okitsu.

“A woman does tend to miss a man,” Agemaki said, “especially when he’s given her everything she has in the world.” She thought fondly of the big estate in Edo Castle, the servants, the expensive clothes. “But the company of a man is worth much less than what he leaves behind after he has gone to his grave.” Agemaki cherished the money Makino had left her. “And when a woman has managed to secure her future, she has no need of any man-or fear of any rival. No one can take away what’s rightfully hers.”

Gone was her privileged status as the senior elder’s wife, but luckily he’d died before he’d divorced Agemaki, remarried, and reneged on the inheritance he’d promised her. Agemaki was glad she’d behaved with shrewdness rather than follow her emotions. And as long as she continued thus, she wouldn’t be punished for Makino’s murder. Everything would be fine.

Reiko hovered outside the private room of the Yanagiya, peering through a gap in the curtains at Agemaki and Okitsu, astounded by what she’d heard.

None of the words Agemaki had spoken showed her to be anything but the decent, honorable widow that Sano had described, the wife who’d gladly tolerated her beloved husband’s infidelity. But Reiko had perceived her subtle expressions and the undertones in her voice, even though Okitsu was apparently oblivious to them. They painted Agemaki as a jealous, deceitful woman who hated Okitsu for taking her place in Makino’s affections and bedchamber.

They were tantamount to a confession that she’d not only killed Makino to punish him and safeguard her inheritance, but previously killed his first wife so she could marry him in the first place.

Yet Agemaki hadn’t actually admitted to the crimes. She hadn’t said anything that couldn’t be interpreted some other way than Reiko had, or that Sano would deem proof of her guilt. Reiko needed more evidence besides veiled remarks and her own intuition.

The proprietor brushed past Reiko and entered the private room. Reiko heard him selling Agemaki and Okitsu the merchandise they’d tried. Soon the two women left the shop and climbed into their palanquin. Reiko and the other maids followed them down the street, laden with packages tied in cloth bundles. As they wended through the daimyo district toward Edo Castle, Reiko saw soldiers pouring out from the walled estates and palanquins filled with women and children, escorted by mounted troops and followed by servants carrying baggage. The feudal lords were evacuating their families-a sure sign that war had begun.

A sudden thought distracted Reiko from her fear. Since beginning her employment as a maid and spy in Makino’s house, she’d not had any bad spells. Had her mind been too occupied for the evil magic to penetrate? Maybe real dangers had exorcised the imaginary ones that haunted her. But there was no such ready cure for the evils that now threatened all of Japan.

23

This morning we’ll investigate Daiemon’s murder,” Sano told the detectives gathered in his office. “That crime is foremost in the shogun’s mind. The Makino case will have to wait.” Furthermore, Sano already had an array of suspects associated with the first crime, while the unexplored trail of the second was fast going cold. “We’ll search the area around the Sign of Bedazzlement for witnesses. We’ll try to find out who and where the woman is.”

A manservant came to the door. “Excuse me, master, but Ibe-san and Otani-san have arrived. They’re waiting for you.”

Sano went to the reception room, where the watchdogs sat side by side. Ibe said, “Before we begin the day’s business, we need to have a talk.”

The men’s sinister air put Sano on his guard. “About what?”

“Sit down, Sōsakan-sama,” said Otani.

Sano warily knelt opposite the men.

“The events of last night require a change in your procedure,” Ibe said.

“What kind of change?” Sano saw that the watchdogs knew he’d alienated Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Probably the whole bakufu would know before long. There would be no more visits from men courting him on behalf of either faction. Sano had hoped Ibe and Otani would stop trying to coerce him now that their superiors had realized that he was a lost cause, but they obviously had other ideas.

“You must conclude the investigation as soon as possible, with the minimum amount of fuss,” Otani said.

“From now on, you will not investigate Chamberlain Yanagisawa in connection with the murders of Daiemon and Senior Elder Makino,” said Ibe.

“Nor will you investigate Lord Matsudaira,” said Otani.

“On whose orders?” Sano demanded, amazed at how far they meant to stretch their interference.

A glance between Ibe and Otani united them. “On ours,” Ibe said.

Whatever obedience Sano owed Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa didn’t extend to their lackeys, whose hindrance had vexed him enough already. “I’ll not let you dictate whom I will or won’t investigate,” Sano said. “What makes you think you can command me?”

Otani gave Sano a condescending look. “You don’t seem to understand that the rules of the game have been changed by Daiemon’s murder and your own decision to cut yourself off from both Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”

“And you don’t seem to understand that following our orders will be to your advantage.” Scorn inflected Ibe’s voice. “Let me explain. Should you persist in investigating Lord Matsudaira or Chamberlain Yanagisawa, the outcome is sure to displease one of them. Steer clear of them both and save yourself a lot of trouble.”

Sano began to perceive the reason behind his watchdogs’ orders. “Somehow I don’t think my welfare is what concerns you most,” he said. “Do your superiors know about this?”

“Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa are very busy men,” Otani said. “They don’t bother themselves with everything their retainers do to serve their interests.”

“I’m sure that if one of them is responsible for killing Daiemon or Senior Elder Makino, he would prefer that I didn’t find out,” Sano said. “But I don’t think your superiors’ interests are your main concern, either. What do you gain from colluding together behind their backs?”

An unpleasant smile compressed Ibe’s mouth. "Let’s just say that we, as well as our masters, will benefit if the murders are no longer a factor in the crisis at hand.”

Enlightenment dawned. “What you mean is that you each fear that your superior is guilty of murder,” Sano said, “and neither of you wishes to be punished as an associate. You want Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira to be free to settle their differences on the battlefield because you’d rather take your chances on the outcome of a war than gamble on the result of the murder investigation.”

Silence was Ibe and Otani’s assent. Sano realized that Daiemon’s murder had left nothing unchanged and the repercussions continued. Although he had no intention of obeying his watchdogs, curiosity led him to ask, “What am I supposed to do while I’m not investigating Chamberlain Yanagisawa or Lord Matsudaira?”

“There are other suspects to occupy you,” Otani said. “We recommend that you concentrate on Senior Elder Makino’s women.”

“Why them?”

“They were in the private chambers the night Makino died,” Ibe said. “Chances are one is the murderer.”

“The same logic applies to Makino’s chief retainer and resident actor,” Sano said. “Are you warning me off them, too?”