Laura Rowland - The Assassin's Touch

“I’m questioning everyone who came in contact with Ejima shortly before he died,” Sano began. “The records show that you had a private appointment with him.”

Nakai frowned as though trying to figure out the point of the conversation. “Yes, I asked Ejima to help me get a promotion. He was close to Lord Matsudaira, and I thought he could put in a good word for me.”

“What happened?”

Anger glinted in Nakai’s eyes. “Ejima said no. It was just a little favor, and he could have done it with no trouble to himself. People use their influence for other people all the time-that’s how one gets ahead in the bakufu. But Ejima said he didn’t know me well enough to recommend me to Lord Matsudaira. He said if I wanted to rise in the world, I had a lot to learn. Then he kicked me out.”

Sano had met many men like Nakai, good at their jobs but stuck in low ranks because they were grossly inept at politics. They didn’t understand the subtle techniques of courting friendship and placing other men under their obligation. They needed to learn that if one wanted favors from strangers, one had better have something to hold over their heads.

“Ejima was the same as the other men I asked for help,” Nakai said bitterly. “They all treated me as if I were a dog who’d pissed on their shoes!”

Hirata said, “Was Treasury Minister Moriwaki one of them?”

“…Yes, I did talk to him.”

“At the bathhouse?”

Scowling, Nakai nodded. “He wouldn’t give me an appointment. I had to follow him around until I caught him off guard.”

“What happened?” Hirata asked.

“He said he couldn’t help me; it was up to my superior officer to decide whether I should be promoted. He told me to go away.” Nakai’s temper erupted; he pounded the balcony so hard it shook. “The nerve of those old snobs! They all got their new, high positions after Lord Matsudaira defeated Yanagisawa. None of them would be where they are, if not for men like me.” He thumped his chest. “I fought in the battle while they hid at home. And now they won’t throw me a crumb from their banquet!”

Sano had to agree that Nakai had a legitimate gripe. Hundreds of troops had died, and men who’d never blooded their own swords had reaped the benefits. Sano thought of more men besides Ejima and Moriwaki-and himself-who fit that description. “Did you ask Court Supervisor Ono and Highway Commissioner Sasamura for their help?”

Nakai snorted out a breath. “For all the good it did.”

“When was this?”

“I don’t remember exactly. Not long before they died.”

Sano also knew Nakai must realize that there was one man in particular who’d benefited most of all from Nakai’s efforts and had the authority to dispense rewards. “Did you ask Lord Matsudaira for a promotion?”

Nakai shook his head, simmering with resentment. “I would if I could. I’ve requested an audience with him. I risked my life to put him in power, and he won’t even grant me the courtesy of a reply!”

Sano and Hirata exchanged a glance; they noted that Captain Nakai’s grudge included Lord Matsudaira as well as all the victims he’d had contact with during the critical time period. He had plenty of reason for attacking Lord Matsudaira’s new regime. Sano said, “What did you do when Ono, Sasamura, Moriwaki, and Ejima brushed you off?”

Nakai grimaced. “I slunk away with my tail between my legs. What else could I do?”

“You didn’t take revenge on them?” Hirata said.

Suspicion crept into Nakai’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

The wrestlers in the ring suddenly charged. The impact shuddered their flesh. Cheers burst from the audience. The wrestlers pummeled each other; they grappled and shoved as each tried to throw his opponent from the ring.

“You’re one of the best fighters in the land,” Hirata said. “Do you know dim-mak?”

“No. Nobody does. It’s just a legend. What-?” The puzzlement on Nakai’s face gave way to surprised understanding. “You think those men were killed by a death-touch. And you’re asking me if I did it.”

“Did you?” Sano said.

Nakai uttered a laugh that didn’t hide his consternation. “I never laid a hand on them.”

“A finger is all it took,” Hirata said, tapping his finger against his temple. “And there went four men who’d not only refused to give you what you want, but insulted your pride.”

Nakai stared in outrage. “I’m a soldier, not a murderer. The only people I ever killed were enemy troops on the battlefield.” Angry enlightenment filled his eyes. “Oh, I see what’s going on. You need someone to blame for those deaths. So you thought, ‘How about that poor sucker Nakai? He was so anxious to sacrifice himself for Lord Matsudaira. Let’s make him the scapegoat and be rid of him.’ ’’ Nakai’s voice turned raw with animosity. “Well, I won’t stand for it.” He squared his shoulders and whipped his sword out of its scabbard.

Sano, Hirata, and the detectives instinctively leapt away and drew their own weapons. The spectators around them squealed and scrambled off, not wanting to be caught in a brawl. But Nakai turned his sword on himself, the hilt grasped in both hands, the blade’s tip pressed against his abdomen.

“I’ll commit seppuku before I let you dishonor my name.” His eyes blazed with serious intent.

Sano let out his breath in relief that he needn’t fight Nakai. Killing his primary suspect wouldn’t help his investigation, and he couldn’t help pitying the man. He said, “Put away your sword, Captain.”

Nakai glared, but he sheathed his blade rather than disobey a direct command from a superior. Sano couldn’t tell whether he was glad or sorry to have his suicide prevented. Maybe Nakai himself didn’t know. In the ring, the wrestlers broke apart, then charged again. They staggered together. One lost his balance. The other grabbed his loincloth and heaved. He went reeling across the ring, tripped over the bales at its edge, and fell into the audience, which applauded, cheered, and booed. Spectators in the balconies hurled coins and expensive robes at the winner, who strutted and raised his fists.

“I’m not looking for a scapegoat,” Sano told Nakai. “If you’re as innocent as you claim, you have nothing to fear from me. But you’d better stay alive and in town until I’ve finished my investigation.”

He nodded to his companions, signifying that they were done with Nakai for now. They filed along the balcony and climbed down the ladder. As they gathered at the bottom, Sano looked up at Nakai. The captain stood on the balcony, gazing down at them, his expression as much aggrieved as hostile.

“Do you think he was bluffing?” Hirata said.

“If he was, he put on a good act,” Sano said.

Detective Arai said, “Do you think he’s guilty?”

“He’s still our best suspect.” Sano turned to Tachibana. “Go follow him. Don’t let him see you, but don’t let him out of your sight. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he associates with, and everything he does.”

“What if he tries to touch somebody?” asked the young detective.

“Stop him,” Sano said, “if you can. If he’s the killer, we may not be able to prevent another murder, but at least we can catch him in the act.”

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” The young detective slipped away and lost himself in the crowds.

“In the meantime, we’ll go back to my estate,” Sano told Hirata and the other detectives. “Maybe Ejima’s informants have been brought in, and we’ll find more suspects among them.” Furthermore, he had a country to run, and he’d been away far too long. As they plowed through the audience and another match began in the ring, Sano wondered if Reiko was faring any better on her investigation. He hoped she’d confined it to the hinin settlement and would soon be done.