Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

“Stay here,” Sano said. “This concerns you, too.”

She threw a pleading glance at Lord Yoshimune. He nodded at her, and she reluctantly sank to her knees beside him. He narrowed his eyes at Sano. “What do you want with us?”

Sano was uncomfortably aware of being alone in the territory of a powerful man he was about to accuse of murder. “There’s been a new development in my investigation.”

Lord Yoshimune’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re still investigating the attack on the shogun? At a time like this?”

“The shogun’s order is still my duty to obey.”

“What has this new development to do with us?”

“We found the socks that the attacker wore.” Sano took a pouch from under his sash, loosened the drawstring, and removed the bloodstained socks. Holding one between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, he dangled them in front of Tomoe. “They’re yours.”

Tomoe shrank from him, her mouth opening wider than her eyes. Inarticulate with panic, she turned to Lord Yoshimune.

Lord Yoshimune patted her hand. “Don’t worry.” He told Sano, “Those look like any pair of women’s socks.”

“Observe the labels.” Sano pointed out the embroidered characters.

Lord Yoshimune snatched the socks, brushed off soot, frowned at the characters and the stains. Was he genuinely surprised to see his cousin’s socks with the shogun’s blood on them? Or was he only surprised because he’d thought they would never show up? Unable to tell, Sano turned to Tomoe. “Are these yours?”

The horrified recognition on her face was her answer.

“Did you stab the shogun?” Sano asked.

She shook her head. Her eyes pleaded with Lord Yoshimune to rescue her. Lord Yoshimune demanded, “How do you know that’s the shogun’s blood?”

“Lord Mori’s watchdog smelled the blood from the iron fan and tracked down the socks. It’s the same blood.”

Lord Yoshimune studied Sano closely and seemed to decide that he was telling the truth. “My cousin didn’t do it.” He sounded certain of that but distressed by the evidence to the contrary. “There must be some other explanation.”

Tomoe tugged his sleeve, reached up to whisper in his ear.

He listened; his face relaxed. “She says a pair of her socks was missing from her room in the Large Interior. She noticed right before she came home with me. The shogun’s attacker must have stolen them because they were marked with her name, and worn them in order to make her look guilty.”

It wasn’t impossible, and Sano wondered if Tomoe had the presence of mind to invent this quick excuse, but he said, “If the attacker wanted to frame Tomoe, then the socks would have been left in the open, someplace where they’d be easily found. But they weren’t.”

Lord Yoshimune’s features tensed again. “Where were they?”

“In an ash heap just outside the daimyo district.” Sano watched realization darken Lord Yoshimune’s eyes. “You see the problem: There are two other suspects-Lady Nobuko and Madam Chizuru. Neither left the castle after the stabbing. But Tomoe did. With you.”

“Are you accusing me of hiding these?” Indignant, Lord Yoshimune shook the socks at Sano.

“She could have concealed them under her clothes and given them to you outside the castle. It would have been easy for you to bury the socks on your way home.”

Lord Yoshimune uttered an irate laugh. “If she had stabbed the shogun-which she didn’t-and if I had wanted to hide the evidence-which I didn’t-then I would have been smart enough to destroy them, not dump them a short distance from my estate.”

Although Sano had to admit it was a good point, he said, “You might have thought they were hidden well enough because nobody would look outside the castle.”

Lord Yoshimune stood with an impatient, angry motion. Tomoe scrambled to her feet and cowered behind him as he said, “Don’t you see what’s going on? Someone is trying to frame Tomoe, just like Yanagisawa tried to frame Lord Ienobu. Only this person has learned that you won’t accept a fake confession.”

“If you really think the socks were planted and Tomoe is innocent, then you won’t mind if I search your estate.”

Lord Yoshimune chuckled. “Go right ahead.” Either he was sure he’d gotten rid of any other evidence against Tomoe or he was sure no one could have planted any inside his own domain. “It’s a big place for you to search by yourself, and I’m not letting you bring in helpers. I heard that Yanagisawa’s men tried to smuggle blood into the Large Interior.”

A search was a long shot as well as a huge undertaking. Sano didn’t want to believe that Tomoe and Lord Yoshimune were guilty, but he had to follow up on his clue. “I’ll start with Tomoe’s room.”

Displeased, yet confident that he would be vindicated, Lord Yoshimune led Sano to the women’s quarters. Tomoe anxiously trailed them to a chamber lively with color. A painted mural depicted butterflies in a garden; brightly patterned kimonos hung on stands; on the dressing table, hair ornaments made of beads and silk flowers adorned a carved jade tree. Shelves held a collection of dolls. It was the room of a child, but Sano smelled a man’s wintergreen hair oil and a faint animal odor of sex. Lord Yoshimune had recently visited Tomoe here, and not to play dolls. Lord Yoshimune watched with alert, unfriendly eyes as Sano looked inside a cabinet full of clothes. Tomoe clung to Lord Yoshimune; he absently stroked her hair. Sano’s attention moved to a red lacquer writing desk. He crouched, lifted the lid, and revealed a jumble of writing brushes and inkstones amid papers covered with childish, blotched calligraphy. The top sheet was a love poem, probably a lyric from a popular song. Sano riffled the others and stopped at a page written in a different hand.

“What’s that?” Lord Yoshimune left Tomoe and swiftly crossed the room.

Sano rose, held up the page, and pointed at the character stamped in red ink at the bottom. “It’s a letter signed with your seal.” He read aloud, “‘Tonight, while the shogun is asleep, sneak into his chamber and stab him to death with this iron fan. Then go back to the Large Interior and wait for me. Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of everything. I love you.’”

“ What? ” Lord Yoshimune said with bewildered indignation, “Let me see that.” He snatched the letter from Sano. “I didn’t write this! It’s not even my handwriting! I never told Tomoe to stab the shogun!”

“Then who did write it?” Sano asked even as he realized that the letter could be a forgery, another attempt to steer him in the wrong direction. “Who put it there?”

Lord Yoshimune looked at his cousin, who hovered near the door. “Tomoe- san ?” For the first time his confidence seemed shaken, his fondness for her shaded by suspicion. “Have you seen this before?”

She wordlessly shook her head. A tear welled in each of her eyes and rolled down each cheek. Lord Yoshimune gave her a brief, intense scrutiny, then turned back to Sano. His eyes flashed with anger. “I think you stole Tomoe’s socks, and stained them with the shogun’s blood, after I took her away from the castle.”

Sano had expected Lord Yoshimune to invent an explanation, but this one offended him. “I didn’t!”

Lord Yoshimune jabbed his finger at Sano. “And you forged the letter. Who planted it in my house? Which of my people is your flunky?”

“No one,” Sano said, angered by the suggestion that he was so corrupt. “I haven’t anybody in your house working for me. Why would I want to frame Tomoe?”

“For Yanagisawa. Is this his ploy to force me to ally with him against Lord Ienobu? Did he send you to ‘find’ this letter? Were you going to threaten to expose me as a traitor?”