“What other interpretation is there?” Ibe said.

Otani opened his mouth, then shook his head.

“Did I say something wrong?” Kubo said in small voice.

“Just take the money and swords and go,” Sano told him. “Forget what happened here.”

Kubo went. “Wait until Chamberlain Yanagisawa hears about this,” Ibe gloated. “How glad he’ll be to learn that Lord Matsudaira’s nephew was the guilty one. That should strengthen him and weaken his enemy.”

“But… ” Shaken and confused, Otani said, “We’re not going to tell the chamberlain. We agreed to leave our superiors and the factions out of the murder investigation… didn’t we?” His eyes implored Ibe. “And we agreed that one of the women should be blamed for both crimes. We can’t expose Daiemon as the killer and traitor!”

Sano saw that Otani was terrified of Lord Matsudaira’s displeasure and the shogun’s wrath. Since Daiemon was dead and beyond punishment, his clan and its associates would pay for his crime.

“This changes everything,” Ibe said, wresting the note from Otani’s grip. “I agreed to our pact because I thought it would serve our mutual interests, and I thought one of the women was as likely to be the culprit as anyone else. But now that we know different, I can’t let the wrong person be punished for killing my lord’s friend and ally while the Matsudaira clan goes free. Nor can I hide such important information from Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”

The man did have some sense of honor and duty after all, Sano saw; but only if it favored his interests. A divergence of interests had shattered the alliance between Sano’s watchdogs. Otani stood frozen by horror that his partner had not only cut him loose, but meant to strike a crippling blow at his lord.

“Congratulations on solving Senior Elder Makino’s murder,” Ibe said to Sano. "Let’s take the news back to Edo Castle.”

“No!” Otani shouted as fury roused him to life. He turned to Sano in desperation. “I order you to never speak of what we found here. I order you to arrest Okitsu or Agemaki!”

His words fell into dead quiet. Nobody moved. “Are you coming?” Ibe asked Sano.

“Not yet,” Sano said.

As Ibe regarded him with puzzlement, and Otani with sudden hope of a reprieve, Sano said, “There’s not enough evidence to prove Daiemon is guilty.”

“What are you talking about?” Ibe said. He waved the note. “There’s this, written by Daiemon, describing the arrangements he made with the assassin. What more do you want?”

“Verification that the note is what it appears to be,” Sano said.

“That it appears to be in Daiemon’s handwriting, and it was found in his house, doesn’t mean anything,” Otani said eagerly. “Someone could have forged the note and planted it here.”

“Do you question the evidence because you’re afraid of how Lord Matsudaira will react?” Ibe asked Sano.

“No,” Sano said, although the idea of Lord Matsudaira’s wrath was good reason to hesitate before incriminating Daiemon. And he wasn’t eager to help Chamberlain Yanagisawa come out on top. “I want to be sure that I’ve identified the person truly responsible for Makino’s murder. Even if the note is genuine and it means what we think it means, there are too many questions left unanswered.”

“Such as?” Ibe said.

“Such as, who is the assassin?” Sano said. “If indeed he exists, he’s out there somewhere. He can confirm that Daiemon hired him. And he’s just as guilty as Daiemon. He must be caught and punished.”

“And how did he get into Makino’s estate and kill him without anyone noticing?” Hirata said.

“And what are the other suspects hiding about the murder?” said Sano, convinced that they’d played roles in whatever had really happened that night. “Where does the perfumed sleeve fit into this?”

“What does any of that matter,” Ibe protested, “when you can finish your investigation and discharge your duty to the shogun? And why should I care, when we can please my master by deciding that Daiemon was responsible for Makino’s death?”

“Something might happen later to prove that he wasn’t,” Sano said. “Do you want to take the chance and risk that Lord Matsudaira will retaliate against you as well as Chamberlain Yanagisawa for smearing his clan’s reputation?”

Ibe hesitated and sucked his lips. Sano bet that the man’s cowardice would prevail. Ibe said, “All right-you win. But how do you propose to find the evidence you need?”

“The Floating Teahouse is a place to start,” Sano said.

“Let’s go, then.” Ibe headed for the door with Sano and Hirata.

“I forbid you,” Otani said, grasping at the shreds of his authority.

“You can come with us if you want,” Ibe said, “but you can’t stop us.”

Otani reluctantly followed them out of the house.

30

Reiko rode in her palanquin along the passage that led uphill from the official quarter to the palace. While her bearers negotiated turns and paused at checkpoints, her mind went over and over her conversation with Lady Yanagisawa. She desperately sought a way to evade blackmail and ruination.

The moment when she’d considered obeying Lady Yanagisawa had passed; conscience had overridden self-interest. Reiko couldn’t interfere with Sano’s investigation on the chamberlain’s account. And she could never bring herself to assassinate Lord Matsudaira. Having realized that, Reiko must somehow protect her marriage from Lady Yanagisawa.

The simplest way would be to tell Sano the truth about what had happened between her and the Dragon King, before Lady Yanagisawa got to him. But if Reiko did, he might still believe Lady Yanagisawa. Even if he didn’t divorce Reiko, he would never trust her again. Their love would be damaged beyond repair. Although Reiko knew that their love should matter less than resisting the evils that Lady Yanagisawa had asked of her, it was the most important thing in her life besides her child.

Next, Reiko thought of discrediting Lady Yanagisawa in order that Sano wouldn’t believe anything she told him. But Sano already knew from Reiko that Lady Yanagisawa was a jealous, treacherous madwoman, and even that didn’t seem enough to counteract her lies. Sano hadn’t witnessed Lady Yanagisawa’s attempts to kill Masahiro or Reiko. One hint of suspicion about Reiko’s veracity might goad him to think that Reiko had invented the murder attempts, as well as her version of the story about the Dragon King. Yet despite these problems, discrediting Lady Yanagisawa-and getting the woman permanently out of her life-still seemed the best defense to Reiko. But how to do it?

She rode through a gate and a garden of cherry trees whose bare, black limbs seemed unlikely to ever blossom in the spring. The bearers set down her palanquin outside the Large Interior, the wing of the palace where the shogun’s concubines, female relatives, and their attendants lived. Reiko forced herself to forget her personal problems and concentrate on the murder investigation. She climbed out of the palanquin and hurried up to the two guards stationed outside a door to the half-timbered, tile-roofed complex of interconnected buildings.

After identifying herself to the guards, she said, “I wish to see Madam Eri.”

Soon Eri came out the door. “Honorable Cousin Reiko!” she said with a friendly smile. A thin, middle-aged woman, she had hair dyed black and a gaunt face. Once a concubine to the previous shogun, she was now a second-rank palace official in the Large Interior. She wore a padded cloak thrown over the blue kimono of her rank. “How nice to see you!”

“I need your help,” Reiko said, forgoing pleasantries in the interest of haste. “Can you spare a moment to talk?”

“Certainly,” Eri said.

Reiko beckoned Eri, and they walked among the cherry trees in the deserted garden. “I need to find out the name of the woman that Lord Matsudaira’s nephew Daiemon was having an affair with. Can you tell me?”