Laura Rowland: The Assassin's Touch

They paused, annoyed at the interruption. Their faces showed dismay as they recognized their master’s daughter.

“The magistrate will be displeased to hear that you’ve been taking advantage of a helpless woman in his house,” Reiko said, her voice sharp with ire. “Get out!”

The guards slunk off. Reiko shut the door and turned to Yugao. The woman slouched, her face concealed behind her tousled hair, her robe hanging off her shoulder. Pity filled Reiko.

“Here, let me fix your clothes,” she said.

As she touched Yugao, the woman flinched. She tossed back her hair and stared at Reiko. “Who are you?”

Reiko had expected Yugao to be thankful for her protection from the guards, but Yugao was wary, hostile. Seeing her at close view for the first time, Reiko noticed that her complexion was ashen from fatigue and malnourishment, her flinty eyes shadowed underneath, her lips chapped. Harsh treatment by the jailers had surely taught her to be leery toward everyone. Although she was accused and perhaps guilty of a serious crime, Reiko felt her sympathy toward Yugao increase.

“I’m the magistrate’s daughter,” Reiko said. “My name is Reiko.”

A long gaze of mutual curiosity passed between them. Reiko watched Yugao appraise her tangerine-colored silk kimono printed with a willow tree pattern, her upswept coiffure, her carefully applied white makeup and red lip rouge, her teeth blackened according to fashionable custom for married women of her class. Meanwhile, Reiko perceived Yugao’s jailhouse stink of urine, oily hair, and unwashed body, and saw resentment and envy in Yugao’s eyes. They looked at each other as though across a sea, the highborn lady on one shore, the outcast on the opposite.

“What do you want?” Yugao said.

Her rude tone surprised Reiko. Maybe the woman had never been taught good manners. Reiko wondered what station in society Yugao had originated from and what she’d done to become a hinin, but it didn’t seem a good time to ask.

“I want to talk to you, if I may,” Reiko said.

Suspicion hooded Yugao’s gaze. “About what?”

“About the murder of your family,” Reiko said.

“Why?”

“The magistrate is having trouble deciding whether to convict you,” Reiko said. “That’s why he postponed his verdict. He’s asked me to investigate the murders and find out if you’re guilty or innocent.”

Yugao wrinkled her brow, clearly perplexed by the situation. “I said I did it. Isn’t that enough?”

“He doesn’t think so,” Reiko said, “and neither do I.”

“Why not?”

This conversation reminded Reiko of the time when Masahiro had stepped on a thistle and she’d had to pull the spines from his bare foot. “One reason is that we need to know why your parents and sister were killed,” Reiko said. “You didn’t say.”

“But…” Yugao shook her head in confusion. “But I was arrested.”

Reiko could sense her thinking that her arrest should have guaranteed a conviction, as everyone knew it would have under ordinary circumstances. “Just because you were caught at the scene of the crime doesn’t prove you did it,” Reiko explained.

“So what?” Anger tinged Yugao’s query.

“That’s another reason my father wants me to investigate the crime.” Reiko was increasingly puzzled by the woman’s attitude. “Why were you so eager to confess? Why do you want us to believe you killed your family?”

“Because I did,” Yugao said. Her tone and expression implied that Reiko must be stupid not to understand.

Reiko stifled a sigh of frustration and a growing dislike of the ill-natured woman. “All right,” she said, “let’s suppose for the moment that you stabbed your parents and sister to death. Why did you?”

Sudden fear glinted in Yugao’s eyes; she turned away from Reiko. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Reiko deduced that whether or not Yugao had killed her family, the motive for the murders lay at the root of her odd behavior. “Why not? Since you’ve already confessed, what harm is there in explaining yourself?”

“It’s none of your business,” Yugao said, her profile stony and unrelenting.

“Were there problems between you and your mother and father and sister?” Reiko pressed.

Yugao didn’t answer. Reiko waited, knowing that people sometimes talk because they can’t bear silence. But Yugao kept quiet, her mouth compressed as though to prevent any words from leaking out.

“Did you quarrel with your family that night?” Reiko asked. “Did they hurt you in some way?”

More silence. Reiko wondered if there was something wrong with Yugao besides a bad attitude. She seemed lucid and intelligent enough, but perhaps she was mentally defective.

“Maybe you don’t understand your situation. Let me explain,” Reiko said. “Murder is a serious offense. If you’re convicted, you’ll be put to death. The executioner will cut your head off. That will be the end of you.”

Yugao responded with a sidelong glance that deplored Reiko for treating her like an imbecile. “I know that. Everybody does.”

“But sometimes there are circumstances that justify killing,” Reiko said, although she had difficulty imagining what could justify these murders. “If that’s true in your case, you should tell me. Then I can tell the magistrate, and he’ll spare your life. It’s in your interest to cooperate with me.”

Sardonic laughter pealed from Yugao. “I’ve heard that story before,” she said as she faced Reiko. “I’ve been in Edo Jail for nine days. I listened to the jailers torturing other prisoners. They always said, ‘Tell us what we want to know, and we’ll set you free.’ Some of the poor, stupid idiots believed it and spilled their guts. Then later, I heard the jailers talking and laughing about how they’d been executed.”

Yugao tossed her head; the long, oily strands of her hair whipped at Reiko. “Well, I won’t fall for your lies. I know that I’ll be executed whatever I say.”

“I’m not lying,” Reiko said urgently. “If you had a good reason for killing your family-or if you help me determine that you didn’t do it-you will be set free. I promise.”

The disdain on Yugao’s face said how much she thought a promise from Reiko was worth. Jail must have taught Yugao harsh lessons she wouldn’t be coaxed into forgetting. Still, Reiko persisted: “What have you got to lose by trusting me?”

Yugao only shut her mouth tight and hardened her obstinate gaze. Reiko had often prided herself on her ability to draw information from people, but Yugao wore resistance like the shell of a turtle, hoarding her secrets underneath it. She vexed yet intrigued Reiko.

Switching tactics, Reiko said, “I’m curious about the night of the murders. Were you alone in the house with your family?”

No reply came from Yugao, except a frown as she tried to figure out where Reiko’s conversation was going.

“Or was there someone else?” Reiko said. When Yugao still didn’t answer, Reiko said, “Did someone else come and stab your family to death?”

“I’m sick of all these questions,” Yugao muttered.

“Are you trying to protect whoever it was by taking the blame yourself?” Reiko said. “What really happened that night?”

“What do you care? Why do you keep pestering me?”

Reiko began to explain again, just in case she hadn’t made her purpose clear at first: “The magistrate-”

“Oh, yes,” Yugao interrupted with a snort. “The magistrate set you on me. And of course you obliged him, because you’re a good little daughter who always does whatever Papa says.”

Her insulting tone seemed an overreaction to a few simple questions. “I just want to find out the truth about a terrible crime,” Reiko said, controlling her temper. “I want to make sure the wrong person isn’t punished.”