“Let’s just step outside.” Sano didn’t want to waste time on formalities. As he and his detectives followed Naraya out the back door, Sano observed that Naraya’s confusion seemed genuine, as did his willingness to cooperate. Was Naraya therefore not the kidnapper?

But if he was, he would have anticipated that the ransom letter would direct suspicion toward Police Commissioner Hoshina’s enemies. He would have expected to be questioned, and prepared to act innocent.

They gathered in the alley between the factory and a warehouse. Trash containers, privy sheds, and night-soil bins fouled the air, but the alley was quiet and afforded Sano the privacy he wanted.

“This kidnapping is a terrible, terrible disaster,” Naraya lamented. “Such evil forces plague this world of ours. Your wife was among the ladies taken, wasn’t she?” he asked Sano. When Sano nodded, sympathy oozed from Naraya. “My sincere condolences.”

“Thank you.” Sano scrutinized the merchant. He wanted Naraya to be the Dragon King; he wanted to believe Naraya could deliver Reiko to him. He reminded himself that there were other suspects and he must not rush to judgment again.

“Tell me how I can help,” Naraya said, flinging open his arms. “Whatever you want of me, name it, and it’s yours.”

Was he sincere, or putting on a good show? Naraya seemed too ordinary to be the Dragon King, who’d assumed monstrous proportions in Sano’s mind. But a successful merchant, expert at bargaining with customers, was as good at theatrics as many a Kabuki performer.

Sano said, “Tell me about your relations with Police Commissioner Hoshina.”

Naraya flinched at the sound of Hoshina’s name. His smile vanished. “You seem to already know there’s bad blood between us,” he said, and his manner turned wary. “Old news travels far. I left Miyako and so did Hoshina-san, but one can never leave the past behind.”

“I understand that you blame Hoshina-san for the death of your daughter,” Sano said.

The merchant hesitated. Sano sensed Naraya’s wish to avoid discussing a painful subject, his fear of how anything he said might hurt him, and his need to air an old grievance.

Need prevailed. Naraya burst out, “It was his fault! My Emiko was my only child, and a sweet, innocent, harmless girl. Hoshina-san destroyed her for his own selfish purposes.”

Flushed and agitated, Naraya leaned toward Sano, eager to justify his ire. “Emiko was fifteen years old. She liked nice clothes, but I couldn’t afford to buy any because I wasn’t as well off as I am now.” Regret and guilt saddened Naraya’s voice. “One day Emiko saw a pretty red kimono hanging in a shop. She went inside, grabbed it, and ran.”

So this was the theft Hoshina had mentioned, thought Sano; not a serious crime, but a girl’s foolish impulse.

“Emiko wasn’t a thief,” Naraya said, passionate in his conviction. “She would have soon realized she’d done wrong and returned the kimono. Unfortunately, Hoshina-san happened to come riding along the street. He saw Emiko clutching the kimono, running away. He chased her and caught her. He marched her back to the shop. The proprietor identified the stolen merchandise. Hoshina arrested Emiko and took her to jail.”

Fury resonated in Naraya’s voice. “When I heard what had happened, I went to police headquarters. That was when I first met Hoshina-san. I tried to explain that Emiko had just made a mistake. But Hoshina-san said she was a criminal and would be sent to work as a courtesan in the pleasure quarter.”

Forced prostitution was the usual sentence for female thieves.

“I offered Hoshina-san a bribe to free my daughter,” said Naraya, “but he refused, even though the police usually will take bribes when the crime is minor.” Naraya glared through tears of outrage. “Later, I learned that Hoshina-san had just been promoted to the rank of commander, and he wanted to show everyone how tough he was. He wanted to make an example of Emiko, as a warning to other would-be thieves.”

This sounded just like Hoshina, and Sano detested him all the more. Sano had already begun having second thoughts about his decision to protect his enemy. He grew less confident that forestalling Hoshina’s death would prolong Reiko’s life. Would he have done better to renege on his promise and let the shogun comply with the ransom demand? What if the investigation proved that neither Naraya nor the Kii clan had taken the women?

“The next day, while Emiko was awaiting her trial, a fire started in the neighborhood around the jail,” Naraya said. “The warden let out the prisoners.”

Tokugawa law decreed that when fire threatened, all prisoners should be released so that if the jail burned, they wouldn’t die-a rare example of mercy in a cruel penal system. After the danger passed, the prisoners were supposed to return voluntarily to the jail, and most did.

“But Emiko stayed behind. After the fire was out and everyone came back to the jail… ” Naraya puffed deep, tremulous breaths, and tears trickled down his droopy cheeks. “The warden found Emiko lying dead in a horse trough full of water. She had drowned.”

Even while Sano pitied the man, excitement quickened his heartbeat. Naraya’s daughter had perished in the same manner as the unnamed woman in the poem in the ransom letter. Was her death the murder that had precipitated the demand for Hoshina’s execution?

“There was no official explanation given for what happened to my daughter.” Naraya spoke with extreme rancor. “Maybe she fell in the trough. Maybe someone pushed her. But I think she drowned herself because she couldn’t bear her disgrace.”

“And you think Police Commissioner Hoshina indirectly caused her suicide?” Sano asked, controlling his excitement.

“If not for that scoundrel, Emiko would be alive today,” Naraya said. Animosity burned his tears dry. “I wouldn’t have lost my only child. My wife wouldn’t have died of grief seven years ago. Every day Hoshina-san lives is a big, big insult to their memory. Every day I pray for him to suffer the same agony and humiliation that we did.”

Contrary reactions beset Sano. He had more sympathy for Naraya than respect for Hoshina, and he found himself wanting Naraya to be innocent almost as much as he wanted him to be the kidnapper. He would rather see Naraya win vengeance for his daughter than punished for the massacre and abduction.

Naraya abruptly donned a semblance of his normal good cheer. “But the past is water under the bridge,” he said. “We must accept what fate deals us and move forward into the future.” Naraya paused, then said carefully, “May I ask what my old grudge against Hoshina-san has to do with the kidnapping of the shogun’s mother?”

“His Excellency has received a letter from the kidnapper,” Sano said. “It demanded that Hoshina be denounced and executed as a murderer, in exchange for the return of Lady Keisho-in.”

Naraya’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped. He looked as though he’d just swallowed a rock that had lodged in his throat. Obviously, he realized how his story had incriminated him. Then he threw back his head and burst into laughter.

“So Hoshina-san has finally reaped his comeuppance!” Naraya exulted. “There’s justice in this world after all.” He jumped up and down in glee. “When he’s executed, I’ll be there to watch.” Delight burbled from Naraya; he rubbed his hands together, then raised them skyward. “Praise the gods for answering my prayers. Someone has brought down that villain at last!”

“Was it you?” Doubt pierced Sano because Naraya appeared genuinely surprised by the news about the ransom demand. Could even an expert actor fake such a response? If Naraya had kidnapped the women, he should be alarmed that Sano had traced the letter to him, worried that his plot against Hoshina had failed, and afraid he would be punished for the crime, instead of rejoicing over Hoshina’s downfall.