“Beautiful,” breathed Toshikage beside Akitada.

Akitada did not answer. He was beginning to despair. It was impossible to tell the women apart. The tallest was the lead dancer, and her gestures seemed to him a little more abrupt, her movements more designed to attract the eyes of the crowd. Yes, he thought, that’s the one. She is not quite in step with the others and a show-off besides. He glanced at Kojiro, who smiled back cheerfully. Akitada clenched his hands.

The dancers bowed to great applause and then, led by the tall fairy, descended from the stage to parade past the viewing stands, pausing now and then to perform movements of the dance. Akitada’s heart started pounding again. He had forgotten about this custom, which distinguished professionals from noble amateurs. The actors had a living to make, and looked for sponsors and protectors among the crowd. It gave him another chance, but might also precipitate an ugly incident. He sat in an agony of apprehension as the young women approached the Sugawara stand. Half-hopeful, half-fearful, he awaited the confrontation.

The lead dancer started a new routine. Akitada’s eyes went from her to Kojiro. Kojiro had been watching with polite interest, but suddenly his face changed, he stiffened, looked momentarily confused, and opened his mouth to say something. At that moment the short dance ended, and Tora jumped up to shout his compliments down to Gold, one of the eight fairies. The lead dancer gave him an angry glance, tossed her head so that the bells of her headdress jingled loudly, and pranced off, followed by the others. Akitada sagged with relief.

A pale Kojiro passed a shaking hand over his face as he stared after the disappearing dancers. Touching his arm, Akitada asked softly, “What is it? You look as if you had seen a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Kojiro laughed shakily. “Yes. Or a devil!” He gave a shudder. “It’s the night for it. I thought that first dancer… I could have sworn… heaven help me, but I thought I was looking at Nobuko. That woman will haunt me the rest of my life.”

Akitada exhaled with relief. It had worked. “Relax,” he said, giving Kojiro’s arm a squeeze. “It was no ghost. Yes. That was your brother’s wife. I hoped you would recognize her earlier. Thank the heavens she did not see you and make a run for it.” He turned to Kobe. “You heard? That lead dancer is Nagaoka’s wife, alive and well. The murdered woman was someone else, possibly one of the actresses who left the company about that time. You may recall I questioned her identity.”

Kobe gaped at him. “Is this some sort of joke? Nagaoka himself identified the body.”

“Nagaoka was overwrought and identified the expensive gown he had just given to his wife.”

“But then …” Kobe’s mind was working furiously. He muttered conjectures to himself. “One of the actresses? Then the actors are involved… but why would the Nagaoka woman … did she kill the other woman? Why? No, it makes no sense.” He glared at Akitada. “Was this your surprise?”

“Yes. The actor Danjuro was her accessory. The motive, or motives, were greed and a passion for theater. They extorted blood money from Nagaoka and then killed him. Yasaburo was poisoned by Danjuro, who was wearing the costume of the priest, to protect himself and Nobuko. Do you want to make the arrests now or wait until after the crowd has left?”

Kobe’s startled expression changed to one of anger. “You planned this to show off your brilliant detective work and made me look an idiot,” he charged. “Even if you are right, and I don’t for a moment believe your far-fetched tale, how do you expect me to conduct an investigation and arrest here and without constables?”

“Come, there are only two of them. And we have Tora and Genba. Besides, Kojiro and Toshikage will lend a hand. It should not be too difficult to capture two individuals, and one of them a woman.” Kobe looked irresolute, and Akitada urged, “We could at least confront them with Kojiro and see what happens.”

Kobe bit his lip and glanced around. It was completely dark by now. The attendants were taking down the colored lanterns and replacing them with torches. “Very well,” he said, rising to his feet. “Let’s go see what that dancer has to say.”

As they made their way behind the viewing stands to the actors’ tent behind the stage, the booming sounds of the big drum announced the demon chase. The other drums followed, the beat against the taut leather a rising crescendo like approaching thunder. Then the higher notes of the shoulder drums, tapped out with the drummers’ fingers, followed, and unearthly squeals produced by flutes and human voices tore through the throbbing noise until the night air vibrated with the din.

They caught a glimpse of the stage, filled with shrieking, jumping creatures in fearful masks and costumes. Kobe stopped when the drumming paused abruptly and the flutists broke into high wailing trills, A large figure burst into the middle of the hopping goblins. This creature wore a brilliant orange silk costume with embroidered apron and train and fiery red trousers. A huge, snarling black mask with rolling eyes and large white fangs rested on its broad shoulders, and long tufts of red hair shot out of its head like flames, which licked its back and shoulders. The king of demons had begun his dance. The monster jumped and twisted, facing this way and that as if scanning the crowd for victims, its talons slashing wildly about.

The audience screamed.

“The king of the demons,” said Akitada. “I expect Danjuro will soon appear as the demon-slaying general and engage him in fierce combat. Perfect timing to confront Mrs. Nagaoka and force a confession out of her.”

Nobody paid attention to the six men as they skirted the stands and ducked under the rope by the actors’ tent. There was no one about. Most of the actors were on the stage, jumping about and screeching. The red-maned demon king faced off against a figure in gilded helmet and armor. The battle had begun.

Akitada and Kobe slipped into the tent, while Kojiro waited outside with Toshikage. Tora and Genba left to intercept Danjuro when he returned from his performance.

Inside the tent the noise of the drums and shrieks receded, but they walked into the middle of a noisy confrontation.

“I’ll teach you manners,” the little acrobat called Gold shouted, advancing with balled fists toward the tall lead dancer.

Nagaoka’s widow was without her headdress but still wore the pasty makeup, while Gold had stripped down to a pair of full trousers. Both looked murderous.

“How dare you hit our master?” Gold demanded, waving her fist in the other woman’s face. “What kind of filth are you? Uemon’s like a father to us.”

The beautiful Nobuko retreated a step. “You’re fired,” she shrieked. “You and your sister can pack up and leave. And take the old man with you. You’re nothing without Danjuro and my money, do you hear?”

Gold slapped her hard, just as Kobe roared, “Quiet! In the name of the emperor!”

They all jumped and turned to look at them. Old Uemon still sat on a stool, pale, the imprint of a hand stark against his skin. Gold dropped her arm; her adversary stood frozen, a hand raised to her cheek.

“I am Kobe, superintendent of police,” snapped Kobe, glaring around at the cowering women in various stages of undress, “and this is a murder investigation.”

Old Uemon groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“You there,” snapped Kobe, pointing at the tall dancer. “Step over here!”

Mrs. Nagaoka approached slowly. “What’s all this about?” she asked. “I know nothing about any murders. I just joined these people. Whatever it is they’ve done, it has nothing to do with me.”

Kobe snorted. “That’s what you think!” He reached back to lift the tent flap. Kojiro, followed by Toshikage, ducked in and faced the woman. Kojiro nodded.