Laura Rowland - The Perfumed Sleeve

“I can guess why Makino asked you,” Reiko said in disgust at the senior elder. “Makino knew that your sense of honor wouldn’t let you overlook a possible crime.”

“He understood that justice matters more to you than your own safety,” Hirata interjected.

“So he saddled you with a job that he knew no one else would bother to do for him. He tried to destroy you while he was alive. Now he’s trying to manipulate you from the grave.” Outrage sparked in Reiko’s eyes. “Please don’t let him!”

Even though Sano shared many of the concerns of his wife and chief retainer, he felt a duty toward Makino that superseded reason. “A posthumous request from a fellow samurai is a serious obligation,” he said. “Refusing to honor it would be a breach of protocol.”

“No one would fault you for refusing a favor to a man who treated you the way Makino did,” Hirata said.

“You ignore protocol often enough,” Reiko said, wryly alluding to Sano’s independent streak.

But Sano had more reason to grant the request, no matter the consequences. “If Makino was murdered, the fact may come to light regardless of what I do. Even if he wasn’t, rumors could arise that say he was.” Rumors, true and false, abounded in Edo Castle during this political crisis. “Suspicion will fall on all his enemies-including me. By that time, evidence of how Makino died, and who killed him, will be lost, along with my chance to prove my innocence if I’m accused.”

Understanding dawned on Reiko’s and Hirata’s faces. “Your enemies have tried to frame you for crimes in the past,” Hirata recalled. “They would welcome this opportunity to destroy you.”

“Most of your friends now belong to Chamberlain Yanagisawa or Lord Matsudaira,” Reiko said. “Since you won’t join either faction, you have the protection of neither. And if you’re accused of murder, you can’t count on the shogun to defend you.”

Because the shogun’s favor was as inconstant as the weather, Sano thought. He’d known that by resisting pressure to choose sides, he stood alone and vulnerable, but now the high price of neutrality had come due. “So I either investigate Makino’s death, or jeopardize all of us,” Sano said, for his family and retainers would share any punishment that came his way.

Reiko and Hirata nodded in resigned agreement. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you,” Hirata said.

“Where shall we begin?” Reiko said.

Their support gladdened Sano, yet misgivings disturbed him. Was Reiko ready to brave the hazards of this investigation so soon after her kidnapping? Sano also wondered how far he could trust Hirata, after Hirata had placed personal concerns above duty to his master during the kidnapping investigation. But Sano was in no position to turn away help.

“As soon as I’ve washed and dressed, we’ll go to Makino’s estate and inspect the scene of his death,” Sano told Hirata.

Hirata bowed. He said, “I’ll fetch some detectives to accompany us,” then left the room.

“You must eat first and restore your strength,” Reiko said to Sano. “I’ll bring your breakfast.” She paused in the doorway. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Sano read anxiety in her manner, instead of the eager excitement with which she usually greeted a new investigation. He said, “I won’t know until I’ve determined whether Makino was indeed murdered. Maybe Hirata and I will discover that he died of natural causes. Maybe I can dispel suspicion of foul play, and everything will be all right.”

Senior Elder Makino’s estate was located on the main street of the Edo Castle official quarter. In accordance with his high rank, the estate was the largest of the compounds, surrounded by stone walls and retainers’ barracks, that lined the road. The gate boasted a double-tiered roof; sentries occupied guard booths outside its double portals.

As Sano walked up to the gate with Hirata and four detectives, they passed officials hurrying about on business. A shrill pitch of anxiety rang from conversations Sano overheard between these men swirling at the periphery of the political maelstrom. The whole bakufu feared the consequences of the struggle between Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira. But Sano detected no sign of commotion around Makino’s estate. He surmised that the news of Makino’s death hadn’t yet been made public.

After introducing himself to the guards in the booth, Sano told them, “I’m here to see the honorable Senior Elder Makino.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances. One man said, “I beg you to wait a moment,” and went inside the compound. Evidently, the guards knew their master was dead but had orders not to tell anyone. Sano and his comrades waited in the chill gray morning until the guard reemerged, accompanied by a man whom Sano recognized as Makino’s secretary.

The secretary, a pale, sleek man with a deferential air, bowed to Sano. “Will you please come with me?”

He led Sano, Hirata, and the detectives through the gate, between the barracks, through another gate to the inner compound, and up the stone steps to the mansion. Inside the entry way Sano and his comrades exchanged their shoes for guest slippers, then hung their swords on racks, according to custom when entering a private home. The secretary seated Sano, Hirata, and the detectives in a reception chamber and knelt opposite them.

“I regret to tell you that the honorable Senior Elder Makino just died,” he said in the hushed tone reserved for such an announcement. “If you had business with him, perhaps I may assist you on his behalf?”

Sano said, “I already know about Makino-san. I would like to speak with whoever is now in charge here.”

The secretary’s face reflected startled confusion. He said, “I’ll fetch Senior Elder Makino’s chief retainer,” then rose and edged out the door.

Soon, a man dressed in austere gray robes strode into the room. He knelt and bowed to Sano. “Greetings, Sōsakan-sama.”

“Good morning, Tamura-san,” replied Sano.

They were casual acquaintances, with a mutual wariness that stemmed from Sano and Makino’s antagonism. Sano knew Tamura to be an old-fashioned samurai who considered himself as much a warrior as a bureaucrat; unlike many bakufu officials, he kept up his martial arts training. Although past fifty years of age, he had a hardy, muscular physique. His hands bore calluses and scars from combat. His features always reminded Sano of the carved wooden masks worn by villains in No plays: hard, shiny, prominent cheeks; a long nose with its sharp tip flattened downward; slanted eyebrows that gave him a severe expression.

“I am responsible for Senior Elder Makino’s household and affairs,” Tamura’s voice-deep, raspy, and loud-befitted his appearance. “There are no male clan members in town, and until they can be summoned, it’s my duty to handle any business concerning my master.”

Sano recalled hearing that Makino had feuded with his four sons and numerous relatives, whom he’d suspected of plotting to oust him from power, and had banished them to remote provinces.

“I was just about to notify the shogun of Senior Elder Makino’s death,” Tamura said. “May I ask how you learned about it?”

“His valet came and told me,” Sano said.

Disapproval drew together Tamura’s slanted brows. “Everyone in the household was forbidden to spread the news until after the official announcement.”

“Juro had permission, from his master,” Sano said, then explained. Tamura stared, obviously disconcerted; Hirata and the detectives watched him and Sano in alert silence. Sano handed Makino’s letter to Tamura. “The senior elder has requested that I investigate his death.”