“Which one is she?” Reiko said with deliberate calm.
Sano pointed. “That’s Kozeri between the two elderly nuns.” He added, “Please take care.”
Behind his stoic expression, Reiko read his fear of what she might learn from Kozeri-and what she might do. “Wait here,” she said.
She marched up to the dancers, watching Kozeri. The nun’s figure was shapely and graceful. Her heavy-lidded eyes were somnolent as she dipped and undulated; her full lips curved in a serene smile. As Sano had said, Kozeri wasn’t young, but she looked ageless rather than old. Her shaved head only accentuated her beauty. Reiko had always taken her own beauty for granted, but hatred and jealousy overcame her.
“Kozeri-san!” she shouted.
The nun turned. When she saw Reiko, a perplexed frown replaced her smile: She obviously wondered why a stranger should address her in such a peremptory tone.
“I want to speak with you,” Reiko said, following Kozeri as the circle of dancers revolved.
Uncertainty clouded Kozeri’s face, but she stepped out of the circle, joined Reiko, and bowed. “Yes, Honorable Lady?”
Her soft, breathy voice hinted at the allure she held for men. “I’m the wife of the shogun’s sōsakan-sama,” Reiko announced with all the imperious pride of her class.
“Oh.” Kozeri looked dismayed. “I didn’t know he was married. I didn’t know he had brought his wife to Miyako.”
Of course Sano wouldn’t have told her, Reiko reflected bitterly. “I help my husband with his work,” she said. “We’re investigating the murder of the left minister together, and I want to ask you some questions.” Needing to show Kozeri that she and Sano had a close, special relationship, she didn’t hide her purpose behind the false pretense that this was a social call. “Come with me.”
Kozeri hesitated, then said, “Very well.”
As Reiko led Kozeri through the crowds, she saw Sano frowning and waving at her from across the courtyard, signaling her to stay. Reiko ignored him. She and Kozeri walked to a deserted garden behind the building. A lantern over the doorway shone through pine trees, casting a network of shadows across the grass. The chirp of crickets muffled the distant drumming and singing. Reiko and Kozeri faced each other. Kozeri folded her arms protectively across her bosom as she waited for Reiko to speak. Reiko was trembling inside, sick with a terrible curiosity.
What did he say to you? she wanted to ask. What did you do together?
Yet she did not, because she dreaded the answers. Instead she said, “Why didn’t you tell my husband that you were in the palace during the murder three nights ago?”
Kozeri’s face mirrored dismay at Reiko’s belligerence. “I was just visiting my family. It didn’t seem important.”
“I don’t believe that’s your only reason,” Reiko said coldly.
Kozeri darted a longing glance toward the lights of the courtyard. Then she sighed and looked at the ground. “I was afraid he would think I was the killer.”
“Are you?”
“No!” Kozeri stared at Reiko, aghast.
“Did you know that my husband was in the palace that night?” Reiko demanded.
“Not until the morning after, when my family received the news of his murder. Later we found out that it was somebody else who’d died.” Kozeri licked her lips nervously. “I don’t even know who the man was. I never left my family’s house that night.” With a timid, beseeching smile, Kozeri said, “I never meant to cause your husband any trouble. You must believe me.”
Reiko regarded her with scorn. “Your wiles won’t work on me. Right Minister Ichijo, Lady Jokyōden, Prince Momozono, and the emperor were all told that my husband was coming to the palace. I imagine that the news spread rapidly around the Imperial Court. You could have heard it and decided to kill my husband so he couldn’t arrest you for the murder of Left Minister Konoe. You sneaked out of your family’s house and went looking for him. But you found Chamberlain Yanagisawa and his men, and you mistook them for my husband’s party. You killed the wrong person.”
“That’s not so!” Kozeri cried in panic. “I didn’t kill anyone. Ask your husband. He knows-”
Her protests faded under Reiko’s glare; she sighed, bowed her head in defeat, and spoke in a low, forlorn voice: “All right. I’ll tell you what happened. The left minister came to Kodai Temple the day before he died. He said he was going to close down the convent and force me to return to him. Then he ordered me to come to the Pond Garden the next night, to celebrate a special occasion.” Kozeri swallowed hard. “I was terrified. When I was his wife, he beat me almost to death. I knew that if I had to live with him again, he would kill me. I had to save myself somehow.”
This story, which contradicted what Kozeri had told Sano about her marriage and the time and nature of her last encounter with Konoe, only increased Reiko’s distrust. “How could the left minister close down the convent, when the Imperial Court has no authority over religious orders?” Reiko asked.
Kozeri lifted her hands, then let them fall. “He said he could. I believed him.”
Had she been so convinced of her former husband’s power over her that she’d taken the threat seriously? Reiko wondered. Or was Kozeri lying again? “What was the special occasion?”
“He didn’t say. I didn’t ask. But I knew he meant to take his pleasure from me.”
“Go on,” Reiko said.
“I agreed to meet him,” Kozeri said. “The next night his attendants came to the temple after everyone there was asleep. They took me in a palanquin to the Imperial Palace. We traveled to the imperial enclosure without meeting anyone. We stopped in the Pond Garden, and the attendants took me to the cottage on the island. They lit a lantern and left me alone inside.”
Prince Momozono claimed he’d seen a light in the cottage just before he and Emperor Tomohito discovered Konoe dead, Reiko remembered; there had indeed been someone else in the Pond Garden besides them. The secrecy with which Konoe had arranged the rendezvous explained why the imperial records showed no outsiders in the palace that night and Yoriki Hoshina hadn’t identified Kozeri as a suspect.
“There was a sake decanter with two cups on the table in the cottage,” Kozeri said. “I sat and had a drink and prayed for the courage to kill the left minister.”
Reiko couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “Wait. You admit you went to the Pond Garden to kill him?”
“Yes.” Kozeri moved into the shadows beneath a tree. A breeze riffled the leaves, casting patterns of light and dark across her haunted face. The pulse of drums punctuated the singing in the courtyard. “I had a small vial inside my sleeve. It contained a drug that I’d bought from a peddler. I was going to pour it into the left minister’s sake. After he drank, he would fall asleep and never awaken. I hoped I could slip away and everyone would think he’d died of a sudden illness.”
She’d planned to use poison, not the power of kiai? Reiko listened, dumbfounded.
“Then I heard him call out, ‘Help!’ First he was running, then it sounded as if he were dragging himself across the ground. His breathing was loud and strange. I looked out the window and saw him standing by the cottage. He cried, ‘No. Please, no.’ I was terrified. Then-”
Shuddering, Kozeri said, “There was a terrible scream. It went on and on. I watched the left minister writhing in agony while blood gushed from him. Then he lay still. The scream stopped.” She fixed a strange, blurred gaze on Reiko. “The left minister was dead.”
She’d wanted to kill him so he couldn’t abuse her anymore, but the murderer had spared her the trouble. The explanation made sense to Reiko, and her skepticism waned. “What did you do then?” she asked.
“I knew that everyone in the palace would have heard the scream,” Kozeri said, caressing the top of her bosom. “Someone would come and find the left minister. I didn’t want them to think I’d killed him, so I blew out the lantern and ran away. In the kuge district, I found a watchtower with fire equipment underneath. I got a ladder and climbed the palace wall. I took the ladder with me and threw it in an alley so no one would know that someone had sneaked out of the compound. Then I walked back to Kodai Temple.”