“Didn’t Lord Mori have company?”
“No.” Akera looked annoyed that Sano had contradicted him.
“He didn’t entertain himself with a young boy who he rented for sex?
Akera’s face darkened with anger. “Lord Mori was an honorable, dignified samurai. He never indulged in prostitutes of any kind.”
“I understand that Lord Mori liked to play rough with boys,” Sano persisted. “This one was tortured and killed.”
“Who gave you that idea?” Suspicion narrowed Akera’s eyes. “It was your wife, wasn’t it? You talked to her before you came here. She’s slandering Lord Mori to save herself.”
Sano had expected this denial and accusation, but it worried him nonetheless. In the few moments he’d been at the estate he’d gathered a statement against Reiko and no evidence in her favor. Still, he believed her and not Akera, a man he didn’t know who wanted someone to blame for Lord Mori’s death. “It would be wise for you to tell the truth. I’ll be checking into your version of events and questioning witnesses.”
“Go ahead,” Akera said, defiant. “Here are the witnesses.” He gestured toward some fifty Mori soldiers who’d gathered nearby. They bent a collective, hostile stare on Sano. “All the troops in the Mori retinue will confirm my story and attest to Lord Mori’s good character.”
They would, Sano knew. The samurai code of honor required their absolute loyalty to their master and fierce aggression toward outsiders they thought had insulted his clan. Sano’s spirits dropped lower as a barrier of silence rose between him and the truth about the murder. But all barriers had weak spots, and he’d broken through them before. Moreover, he hadn’t missed a critical, heartening element in Akera’s story.
“You appear to be the last person to have seen Lord Mori alive,” Sano pointed out.
“If you’re looking to shift the blame for the murder onto me, it won’t work,” Akera said with ireful satisfaction. “I didn’t kill Lord Mori. Everyone here will attest to my devotion to him. My servants will swear that I spent the whole night in my own quarters and didn’t know he was dead until Sosakan Hirata and I found him today.”
Sano saw that there was nothing more to be gained from Akera until and unless he could break this alibi that was backed up by the servants’ age-old obedience to and fear of their superiors. He faced down Akera with an impassive gaze. “Make yourself available for further questioning. I’ll inspect the scene of the murder now.”
He, Marume, and Fukida entered the building and found Hirata with Detectives Arai and Inoue in the bedchamber. As they exchanged greetings, Sano viewed the corpse lying on the bed. He stifled a wince; his gaze veered away from the ugly wound in Lord Mori’s groin, the severed organs alongside Reiko’s soiled knife. Flies buzzed and swarmed over the blood. Sano felt a painful spasm in his own groin, then a sick, dizzying sensation. He’d seen many murder victims, but this injury to the most personal, vulnerable part of the male body almost undid him. The air reeked of decay. For a moment he couldn’t breathe.
“Is this how you found him?” Sano managed to ask.
“Yes,” Hirata said. “We haven’t touched anything here, except to open the windows.” The detectives studiously avoided looking at the corpse. Arai and Inoue had had time to get used to it, but Marume’s and Fukida’s faces were pale. “We preserved the scene for you.”
Sano nodded his approval while he noted the room’s plain decor. The gilded screen, the erotic mural, the vase of flowers, the wine bottle, and cup were nowhere to be seen. Except for the single blossom that lay, its petals dyed red, in the blood on the floor, the chrysanthemums had vanished as Reiko had said.
Or perhaps the decorations didn’t exist. Perhaps the events she’d claimed she’d witnessed here had never taken place.
These unwelcome thoughts rose involuntarily in
“No.” Akera looked annoyed that Sano had contradicted him.
“He didn’t entertain himself with a young boy who he rented for sex?
Akera’s face darkened with anger. “Lord Mori was an honorable, dignified samurai. He never indulged in prostitutes of any kind.”
“I understand that Lord Mori liked to play rough with boys,” Sano persisted. “This one was tortured and killed.”
“Who gave you that idea?” Suspicion narrowed Akera’s eyes. “It was your wife, wasn’t it? You talked to her before you came here. She’s slandering Lord Mori to save herself.”
Sano had expected this denial and accusation, but it worried him nonetheless. In the few moments he’d been at the estate he’d gathered a statement against Reiko and no evidence in her favor. Still, he believed her and not Akera, a man he didn’t know who wanted someone to blame for Lord Mori’s death. “It would be wise for you to tell the truth. I’ll be checking into your version of events and questioning witnesses.”
“Go ahead,” Akera said, defiant. “Here are the witnesses.” He gestured toward some fifty Mori soldiers who’d gathered nearby. They bent a collective, hostile stare on Sano. “All the troops in the Mori retinue will confirm my story and attest to Lord Mori’s good character.”
They would, Sano knew. The samurai code of honor required their absolute loyalty to their master and fierce aggression toward outsiders they thought had insulted his clan. Sano’s spirits dropped lower as a barrier of silence rose between him and the truth about the murder. But all barriers had weak spots, and he’d broken through them before. Moreover, he hadn’t missed a critical, heartening element in Akera’s story.
“You appear to be the last person to have seen Lord Mori alive,” Sano pointed out.
“If you’re looking to shift the blame for the murder onto me, it won’t work,” Akera said with ireful satisfaction. “I didn’t kill Lord Mori. Everyone here will attest to my devotion to him. My servants will swear that I spent the whole night in my own quarters and didn’t know he was dead until Sosakan Hirata and I found him today.”
Sano saw that there was nothing more to be gained from Akera until and unless he could break this alibi that was backed up by the servants’ age-old obedience to and fear of their superiors. He faced down Akera with an impassive gaze. “Make yourself available for further questioning. I’ll inspect the scene of the murder now.”
He, Marume, and Fukida entered the building and found Hirata with Detectives Arai and Inoue in the bedchamber. As they exchanged greetings, Sano viewed the corpse lying on the bed. He stifled a wince; his gaze veered away from the ugly wound in Lord Mori’s groin, the severed organs alongside Reiko’s soiled knife. Flies buzzed and swarmed over the blood. Sano felt a painful spasm in his own groin, then a sick, dizzying sensation. He’d seen many murder victims, but this injury to the most personal, vulnerable part of the male body almost undid him. The air reeked of decay. For a moment he couldn’t breathe.
“Is this how you found him?” Sano managed to ask.
“Yes,” Hirata said. “We haven’t touched anything here, except to open the windows.” The detectives studiously avoided looking at the corpse. Arai and Inoue had had time to get used to it, but Marume’s and Fukida’s faces were pale. “We preserved the scene for you.”
Sano nodded his approval while he noted the room’s plain decor. The gilded screen, the erotic mural, the vase of flowers, the wine bottle, and cup were nowhere to be seen. Except for the single blossom that lay, its petals dyed red, in the blood on the floor, the chrysanthemums had vanished as Reiko had said.
Or perhaps the decorations didn’t exist. Perhaps the events she’d claimed she’d witnessed here had never taken place.
These unwelcome thoughts rose involuntarily in
Similar Books
