Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

Akiko sighed with relief, frowned in confusion. “I did?”

“Yes.” Reiko cupped the jar of hair oil in her hands as if it were a sacred treasure. “Now I know what happened the night the shogun was stabbed. Lady Nobuko did it.”

The transparent specter of Lady Nobuko materialized. She tucked the iron fan under her sash, then dipped her fingers in the jar Reiko held. She smeared the oil on her hair. “She used the same hair oil as Madam Chizuru,” Reiko said. Lady Nobuko’s specter lifted a lantern from the stand and tiptoed from the room. Her sock-clad feet padded down the corridor toward the shogun’s private chambers. “It was dark. If she met anyone, they would think she was Madam Chizuru, because they would smell the peppermint and jasmine.” Reiko envisioned the shogun’s bedchamber. The light from Lady Nobuko’s lantern illuminated the sleeping figures of the shogun and his boy. Lady Nobuko bent over the shogun, the iron fan clutched in her fist. The shogun slept; the boy stirred, his nostrils twitching. “Dengoro really did smell Madam Chizuru’s hair oil. He lied about everything else, but not that.”

And Lady Nobuko had lied about why she’d refused to let Sano question her immediately after the stabbing. She hadn’t been too upset or just wanting to avoid him. “She needed time to wash her hair, so he wouldn’t smell peppermint and jasmine on her and realize there were two women who’d been wearing the oil when the shogun was stabbed and guess that she was the one Dengoro smelled.” Reiko thought of Tomoe’s bloodstained socks. Her intuition said the hair oil was the genuine evidence, hidden in plain sight by Lady Nobuko, not planted. But Reiko needed more evidence, solid proof.

“Let’s keep searching.” She yanked open more scroll cases and scanned the letters inside. “Look for anything that doesn’t belong.”

They ransacked the chamber. Akiko inspected the other toiletries then flung them aside like garbage. Reiko did the same with the items in Lady Nobuko’s desk. They moved on to the cabinets, pulled out garments, shook them, and dropped them on the floor. They didn’t find the bloodstained socks Lady Nobuko had worn; she must have burned them before Reiko’s first search. While Akiko examined shoes, Reiko tore into a stack of kimonos packaged in white silk bags. These were Lady Nobuko’s best clothes-opulent satin robes reserved for special occasions and brightly patterned ones saved from her youth. Expensive kimonos were a significant portion of a rich woman’s wealth. Reiko shook out a gorgeous kimono with red peonies splashed on a black, white, and yellow geometric background. As she ran her hands over the smooth, heavy fabric, she felt a crackly thickness in the hem of one sleeve.

Her heart jumped.

Turning the hem inside out, she saw a loose yellow thread where the stitching had been cut. The hem had been sewn up with lighter-colored thread. Reiko tore open the hem. Tucked inside was a folded sheet of paper. She pulled it out and unfolded a letter scribbled hastily, dated two months ago.

Honorable Lady Nobuko,

Yesterday, while traveling along the Tōkaidō, I thought I saw the shogun’s son. I knew it couldn’t be Yoshisato-he was burned to death in that fire. This fellow has gangster tattoos, but he looked so much like Yoshisato, it was as if I’d seen a ghost. I asked around the town where I saw him. His name is Oarashi and he’s from Osaka. He was heading to Edo. Maybe my eyes deceived me, or maybe he’s a relative of Yoshisato, but you asked me to report any news that had the slightest connection to Yanagisawa, and I am

Your obedient servant,

Shiga Mondo, Courier

“Mama, what’s that?” Akiko asked, dropping a quilt she’d just shaken.

“It’s proof that Lady Nobuko stabbed the shogun.” Reiko could hardly believe what she’d found. Her voice shook with excitement as she said, “She knew Yoshisato was alive before everyone else did.” Or at least she wasn’t taking any chances. “She knew he was coming back, and she wanted to prevent him from becoming the next shogun!”

Reiko basked in triumph because she’d solved the crime, against all odds. Exhilaration lifted the cloud of despair that had weighed upon her since she’d lost the baby. It didn’t matter that the hair oil and the letter incriminated only Lady Nobuko. Lady Nobuko and Lord Ienobu were allies; her killing the shogun would have helped Lord Ienobu take over the regime before Yoshisato showed up. They must have been in on the crime together.

Akiko frowned as she tried to make sense of what Reiko had said. “What are we going to do now, Mama?”

Reiko folded the letter, grabbed the jar of hair oil, and tucked them under her sash. “We’re going to tell the shogun that Lady Nobuko and Lord Ienobu conspired to assassinate him and Lady Nobuko stabbed him. He’ll disinherit Lord Ienobu and put both of them to death.” It was fitting punishment for Lady Nobuko’s evils. “Let’s hurry. We have to get to the shogun before he dies.”

When Sano and Marume returned to the Mori estate, Yanagisawa’s men hauled them through the trapdoor and took them straight to Yanagisawa, who was in conference with Yoshisato and Lord Mori.

“Our spies report that Lord Ienobu has troops marching toward town from the provinces controlled by the Tokugawa branch clans,” Yanagisawa said. “They’ll be here before sundown. Then our forces will be outnumbered ten to one. You’d better have good news.”

When Sano told Yanagisawa what he’d learned, Yanagisawa threw up his hands in exasperation. “What do I care about a meeting that happened four years ago, or the death of a piddling translator? Why go after Manabe at a time like this?”

This was Sano’s last chance to find out the truth about the attack on the shogun. He still craved the truth, like a man clinging to an unfaithful mistress because she’d already cost him so much and he couldn’t bear to think it was all for naught. He appealed to Yoshisato. “Something secret happened between Lord Ienobu and the Dutch. Manabe was in on it. He’s like a crutch that Lord Ienobu leans on. Knock him over, and Lord Ienobu will go down, too.”

“You’re making it up as you go along,” Yanagisawa accused.

Sano was, but he said, “Get some extra ammunition against Lord Ienobu, and you won’t have to fight a war you can’t win.” He sweetened the deal for Yoshisato. “Go after Manabe, and you’ll get revenge on him for what he and Lord Ienobu did to you.”

Yoshisato frowned and considered. Lord Mori said, “Extra ammunition can’t hurt.”

“Chasing after it will cost us time,” Yanagisawa said. “We need to kill Lord Ienobu before his extra troops get here. And there’s no guarantee that it will be any more use than investigating the death of the shogun’s boy.”

Sano knew in his heart that the boy’s death was connected to the translator’s; both were part of Hirata’s campaign to put Ienobu on top. But he didn’t say so, even though his loyalty to Hirata had been destroyed when he’d learned about the other murders. The story about the secret society and the ghost was too fantastic for Yanagisawa to believe.

“I say let’s try Manabe,” Yoshisato said.

“So do I,” Lord Mori said.

“I’m in charge!” Yanagisawa protested. “You can’t overrule me!”

“I’m the one with the claim on the dictatorship,” Yoshisato said.

“And I’m the one with the largest army in your camp,” Lord Mori said. “My troops don’t attack Lord Ienobu unless I say so. First we tackle Manabe.”

Yanagisawa was practically breathing fire from his nostrils, but he saw that arguing was no use. “You have two hours. That’s all we can afford to wait.” Curious in spite of his anger, he said, “How are you going to get at Manabe? He and Lord Ienobu’s other top retainers are shut up inside the castle.”