“Konoe circulated rumors among the most influential members of the court,” Yanagisawa said. “He claimed that you were getting senile; you’d lost control of your bladder and bowels, and he’d seen you wandering about the city, unable to find your way home. According to Konoe, you were in no shape to be prime minister, regardless of your excellent record.”

Indignation burned red slashes across Ichijo’s high cheekbones. “I suppose your spies told you what Konoe said. His accusations were nothing but vicious, self-serving slander.”

The papers Yanagisawa had taken from Konoe’s office had included plans to discredit Ichijo, and copies of reports sent to high court nobles. “Now that Konoe is dead, who will be the next prime minister?”

“The selection process has begun over again, and the outcome is uncertain.” Ichijo had regained his composure, and he spoke with chill asperity.

“But who is now the highest court official? Who’s in the best position to ingratiate himself with the emperor?”

Ichijo greeted the accusing questions with a thin smile. “In the ancient art of statesmanship, it is unnecessary to belabor the obvious.” His tone implied that only a samurai would commit such a sin. “However, I shall answer you. Yes, I shall probably be appointed prime minister.”

“Did you murder Konoe to win the promotion?” Yanagisawa demanded, bristling at Ichijo’s unspoken insult.

“Your accusation is ridiculous and unfounded,” Ichijo said disdainfully, “and since you already think you know so much, you don’t need me to answer your questions. It is obvious that nothing I say will change your twisted interpretation of the facts, so why stage this farce?”

While Yanagisawa had considered Ichijo the prime murder suspect from the start, he’d needed to confirm his judgment by meeting Ichijo. He hadn’t really expected a confession, although it would have helped. Ichijo’s intelligence and forceful character reaffirmed his decision to hide from Sano the facts about the right minister. Yanagisawa could believe that Ichijo’s talents included the power of kiai. Ichijo and Konoe had been political enemies, and Konoe’s death had benefited Ichijo, but other circumstances also implied his guilt.

Yanagisawa said, “The Imperial Court allowed days to pass before notifying the shoshidai of Left Minister Konoe’s death. I understand that it was your decision to delay news of the murder.”

“It was my decision for the court to conduct an inquiry and document the incident before reporting the death.”

“Fancy language for attempted deception,” Yanagisawa remarked. “Where were you when Left Minister Konoe died?”

“I was in the tea ceremony cottage, where I often go in the evenings,” Ichijo said, his manner calm. “My daughter Lady Asagao was with me.” He added, “She is the emperor’s consort.”

Chamberlain Yanagisawa hid his glee at catching Ichijo in an outright lie. According to Yoriki Hoshina’s report, a young noble and a lady-in-waiting had used the tiny, one-room cottage for a lover’s tryst that night. Ichijo and his daughter couldn’t have been there at the same time. The right minister knew Lady Asagao was a suspect, and he clearly intended to secure an alibi from someone he could trust to lie for him, and to protect his connection with the emperor.

“If you were in the tea cottage, then you must have heard the scream, and the uproar after Left Minister Konoe’s death,” Yanagisawa said, “but you didn’t go to the Pond Garden to see what was happening, although Lady Asagao did. When the palace guards went to report the death to you, they couldn’t find you anywhere.” These were more facts that Yoriki Hoshina had withheld from Sano. “Why didn’t you appear and take charge?”

“I admit I was negligent.” Ichijo sidestepped the question with commendable agility, then said, “If you are so sure I am a murderer, why do you risk antagonizing me?” Black teeth gleamed in his smile. “Are you not afraid I will kill you before you can summon your guards?”

Chuckling, Yanagisawa paced in a narrowing spiral around Ichijo. “Risks are an essential part of life.” He refused to betray that he did indeed fear Ichijo. "Besides, you surely realize that my associates know where I am and with whom, as well as all the facts about you. You couldn’t get away with killing me.”

“Well, then,” Ichijo said, rising stiffly and staring down Yanagisawa, “I suppose you will arrest me for the murder.”

“Oh, no. You’re quite free to go.” Yanagisawa clapped his hands; two guards entered the room. He ordered, “Take the right minister back to the palace.”

Ichijo stared in astonishment. “But… if you’re not arresting me, then why abduct me?” Distrust and incredulity mingled in his voice. “Why accuse me, then release me?”

Chamberlain Yanagisawa merely smiled, bowed, and said, “A thousand thanks for your company, Honorable Right Minister.” He’d gotten what he needed from Ichijo: the chance to assess the prime suspect, and an idea for the next step in his scheme to solve the case, trap the killer, and destroy Sano.

He sensed Ichijo’s desire to escape, but the right minister remained immobile, his calculating gaze fixed on Yanagisawa. “I presume the sōsakan-sama isn’t aware you’re in Miyako because you don’t want him to know, and you’re the reason he hasn’t identified me as a suspect. What if I were to tell him about our talk?”

“That would be a mistake,” Yanagisawa said, “because then Sano would focus his investigation on you. If he doesn’t discover by himself what I know about you, I’ll tell him. Either way, he’ll arrest you. So I trust you will keep our meeting a secret?”

Ichijo conceded with a grudging nod. The slight tension of anxiety relaxed in Yanagisawa, because if things progressed according to plan, he needn’t interview anyone else, and he’d silenced the only person who might expose him.

10

Having finished the day’s work at the Imperial Palace, they were back in their room at Nijō Manor. While twilight darkened the windows and gongs heralded the start of the evening’s Obon rituals, Sano dressed for the shoshidai’s banquet, which was for men only. Reiko sat nearby.

“It’s only been one day,” she said. “You can’t expect to solve the mystery so soon.”

“I know.” As he put on a maroon silk kimono over wide trousers, Sano tried to define his feelings. One of the things he cherished most about his marriage to Reiko was the way their two minds often came up with answers that eluded his lone efforts. At first he’d had a hard time accepting a woman’s help, but now it seemed natural to discuss his ideas with Reiko.

“Between us, we’ve interviewed all the suspects,” Sano said, “and they all seem equal in terms of opportunity to commit the murder. Emperor Tomohito and Prince Momozono have only each other for an alibi. Attendants in the imperial residence saw them both before the household retired for the night, but not between then and Left Minister Konoe’s death. They might have been in the study hall together, as they claimed-or not.

“Lady Jokyōden says she was alone and heard the spirit cry from outside the summer pavilion. I checked with everyone in the abdicated emperor’s household on the chance that someone might have seen or followed her without her knowledge, but no one did. Lady Asagao lied about her alibi, and I haven’t been able to find out where she was during the murder, which puts her in the same situation as the other suspects.”

“Not quite,” Reiko said. “Lady Asagao is the only one with a clear motive-by her own admission, she hated the left minister for cutting her allowance and influencing the emperor against her.”

Sano tied a brocade sash around his waist. “But do you really think Lady Asagao is capable of a spirit cry? From your description of her, I don’t.” Now Sano pinpointed one problem: “In fact, I can’t imagine any of these people as the killer.”