Reiko nodded. “It would explain why she was so frightened and unhappy, and why her confession sounded so unconvincing. She lied-all the while knowing what would happen to her.”

“What about the bloodstained robes?” Sano asked.

After some thought, Reiko said, “Left Minister Konoe thought he was meeting Asagao in the Pond Garden, but what if the emperor intercepted the message? His Majesty went to the rendezvous. It was dark, and he wore Asagao’s clothes, so that if anyone saw him, they would think he was Asagao. It was he who stepped in Konoe’s blood. He took off the clothes and hid them; later, he or Lady Jokyōden put them in Asagao’s room.”

“That’s pretty far-fetched,” Sano said. “However, I did consider the possibility that Asagao was forced into confessing.” Sano thought Reiko should have given him credit for that much intelligence. “I went to see her. She’s at police headquarters, in a special cell.” Samurai charged with crimes usually awaited trial under house arrest, and peasants in public jails, but because of the number of travelers who visited Miyako, other accommodations for high-ranking citizens were available. “I thought that if I spoke to Asagao alone, she might be more likely to tell the truth, but we’ve gone over and over her story, and it never changed. I tried to persuade her that if she’s innocent, she shouldn’t take the blame for the murder. Asagao still swears by her confession.”

“But you don’t believe she’s guilty any more than I do,” Reiko said.

“No,” Sano admitted. “I’ve felt there was something wrong about this case all along, and the feeling is even stronger now. This is a false confession. I know it.”

“Yet you arrested Lady Asagao anyway,” Reiko said.

“Because I had to,” Sano said defensively. “She’s guilty by law. For me to let a confessed murderer go free would be to forsake my duty to the shogun and the public. I would be subject to official censure for failing to uphold the power of the bakufu-as if I don’t have enough troubles already.”

“What about Lady Asagao’s troubles?” Reiko said. “Would you let her die for a crime she didn’t commit, and have the real killer go free? Don’t you want to discover the truth anymore?”

“Of course I do!” Now Sano’s temper snapped. That Reiko should accuse him of compromising his personal principles for the sake of a quick solution to the case! He sat up and turned on his wife. “You just don’t understand the stakes involved. One more mishap after the fiasco over the Lion, and I’ll be expelled from my post, or even put to death. Shall I make you a widow who shares my disgrace? Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.” Anger and bewilderment clouded Reiko’s eyes. “And I do understand what’s at stake. What I don’t understand is why you’re so angry with me.”

“I’m not. Why must you take every disagreement so personally?”

“If you’re not angry, then why are you shouting?”

As they glared at each other, Sano realized that he was angry at himself for desiring Kozeri, and taking it out on Reiko. He had a frightening premonition that this case would destroy his marriage along with everything else that mattered to him. Forcing a smile, he took Reiko’s hand. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I’m irritable. Forgive me.”

Reiko sat wary and unrelenting for a moment; then she smiled back, and her hand clasped Sano’s. “I do know why you arrested Lady Asagao, and I shouldn’t have spoken so strongly. You were right to be angry. I’m sorry, too.”

Her honest apology only fed Sano’s guilt.

“It’s just that I feel responsible for what happens to Lady Asagao,” Reiko continued in a worried voice. “I was the one who searched her room. I found the clothes and gave them to you.”

“You didn’t make her confess,” Sano said. “It was my decision to have you investigate the palace women, and your duty to turn whatever you found over to me.”

“1 know,” Reiko said unhappily, “but still…”

Sano couldn’t offer any absolution, because he shared her sense of responsibility for Lady Asagao. They sat for a moment, holding hands, joined in dread of the future.

“What shall we do?” Reiko asked. “Find the real killer?”

“Or try to,” Sano said. “There’s not much time. Delaying Asagao’s trial will give me a bad reputation that could spread to Edo and have me thrown out of the bakufu before I can solve the case. Someone else will take over my job, and Asagao will die.”

“But we won’t give up yet,” Reiko declared.

“No, we won’t,” Sano said, heartened by his wife’s determination. “Tomorrow I’ll restart the investigation. If there are any clues or suspects Yoriki Hoshina missed, I’ll find them.”

“Speaking of other suspects,” Reiko said, “I forgot to ask if you saw the left minister’s former wife.”

Suddenly the space around Sano seemed a landscape of quicksand, deep holes, and sharp-edged rocks. He withdrew his hand from Reiko’s, lest she feel his nervousness, and said, “Yes, I did.” Then, in as neutral a voice as he could manage, he recited the dry facts from his interview with Kozeri.

“So Konoe was a constant problem for his wife since she left him,” Reiko mused. To Sano’s relief, she didn’t seem to suspect anything amiss. “Kozeri belongs to a peaceful Buddhist order that shuns violence and doesn’t practice the martial arts. Still, I find it hard to believe she bore no ill will toward Konoe. I wonder if she told you the whole story. She might be more frank with another woman. Maybe I should go see her.”

“No!” The word burst from Sano. Reiko looked at him, obviously perplexed by his vehemence. “I mean, I think Kozeri is a less likely suspect or witness than the members of the Imperial Court.”

He had to keep Reiko and Kozeri apart. If Reiko saw Kozeri, she might guess how he’d felt toward the beautiful nun. Also, if the investigation required another interview with Kozeri, he wanted to be the one who went, because he wanted to see her again. The knowledge filled Sano with fresh guilt.

“But she’s the only lead I can follow,” Reiko said, disappointed. “Now that the Imperial Court knows I spied for you, there’s no use in my going back to the palace; the women won’t tell me anything. It would be better for me to talk to Kozeri than just sit here and do nothing while time runs out for you-and Lady Asagao.”

A knock at the door spared Sano the necessity of answering. “Come in,” he called, grateful for the reprieve.

Detectives Marume and Fukida entered the room. They bowed to Sano and Reiko. Marume said, “Please excuse the interruption, Sōsakan-sama, but just as we arrived at the inn, an imperial messenger came asking for you.”

“He brought you this,” Fukida said, holding out a cylindrical black lacquer scroll case decorated with gold chrysanthemums.

Sano opened the case and unrolled the document inside. He scanned the message written in bold, black calligraphy and inspected the signature seal. “It’s from the emperor,” he said. “His Majesty demands that I come to see him immediately.”

“What for?” Reiko said.

“He doesn’t say, but I’m guessing that he wants to persuade me to free Lady Asagao.” Sano’s heart sank at the prospect of another clash with the Imperial Court. “Still, I can’t ignore an order from the emperor. I have to go.”

With a sense of leaving one dangerous situation for another, Sano rose and donned his swords. “Marume-san, Fukida-san, come with me.” To Reiko, he said, “We will finish our conversation later.”