Black Lotus

9

Distant temple bells heralded dawn. Dressed in white kimono and trousers, Reiko stood barefoot in the garden, her hand on the sword at her waist, her face upturned toward a pale sky filmed with drifting gray clouds. The estate lay dark and quiet around her. Moisture veiled the air; dew pearled the grass. Reiko concentrated on the energy spreading from the spiritual center within her abdomen, through her whole body. With a sudden rapid motion, she drew the sword. She lunged and slashed in combat against an imaginary opponent.

At first the sword felt cumbersome and her movements awkward from lack of practice. Soon Reiko was panting and drenched in sweat, but eventually she felt her skill returning. She resolved to train daily, as she had before her pregnancy. The ritual calmed her mind while building her strength. Now she could think objectively about last night’s talk with Sano, and she began to understand why she’d been so eager to refute evidence that raised valid concerns regarding Haru.

Proving that her judgment was sound had become a matter of honor. Though she knew she shouldn’t let personal needs guide her, Reiko still trusted her own instincts and intelligence. Her suspicions about the Black Lotus fed her belief in Haru’s innocence.

Reiko pivoted, ducked an imaginary strike, and lashed her blade against her doubts about her detective abilities. She and Sano would solve the case and deliver the real killer to justice, together.

When Reiko arrived at the Zōjō Temple convent, a nun told her that Haru was in the garden. Reiko left her entourage outside the front door. Carrying a package she’d brought, she walked around the building. The clouds cast a gloomy pall over gravel paths and autumn grasses. The breeze carried the scent of rain; nuns gathered laundry from balconies. Then Reiko heard Haru’s voice-shrill, frightened-and a man’s gruff, threatening one.

Reiko hurried around a cluster of pines and saw Haru standing near a lily pond in the secluded garden, her back pressed against a boulder. A priest loomed over the girl.

“Leave me alone!” Haru tried to squirm away, but the priest planted his hands on the stone surface on either side of her, preventing her escape.

“You’ve had your chance to cooperate voluntarily,” he said. In his early forties, he was tall and strong; sinewy muscles corded his neck and bare arms. His domed head sloped to a low forehead, flat nose, full lips, and jutting chin. “Now I’ve run out of patience.”

He clamped his big hand across Haru’s throat and shoved. The girl’s back arched; her head slammed against the boulder. She cried, “Help!”

Reiko dropped her package, rushed over, and grabbed the priest’s arm. It felt hot and hard, like iron newly tempered in a forge. “What are you doing?” She saw scars crisscrossing his bare scalp, the most prominent one a raised seam that ran from the corner of his eye over his ear, ending in an incrustation of flesh that resembled a lizard. Revulsion filled Reiko as she tried to pull the priest away from Haru. “Stop!”

The priest looked down at Reiko. Harsh lines carved the skin around his mouth. Heavy, slanting brows added menace to his frown. His arm shot out, flinging Reiko aside. Then he turned back to Haru, increasing the pressure on her throat.

Choked cries emanated from Haru; she clawed at the priest’s hands. Outraged, Reiko drew the dagger strapped to her arm under her sleeve.

She jabbed the priest’s back with the blade, ordering, “Get away from her!”

He didn’t even flinch. He didn’t seem to notice Haru’s fingernails tearing bloody scratches on his hand. “You set the fire,” he said, bearing down on Haru. “Confess!”

Haru’s face reddened; her eyes rolled in terror. Her voice emerged in a strangled whisper: “No!”

Reiko didn’t want to injure the priest, but she had to save Haru. “Guards!” she called. Her five escorts came running. “Stop him!”

In an instant, the guards had the priest pinned facedown on the grass. Haru crumpled beside the boulder, coughing and clutching her throat.

“Are you all right?” Reiko asked, touching the girl’s shoulder.

With a shaky, grateful smile, Haru nodded.

Reiko bent over the priest, holding the dagger against his neck. “Who are you?” she demanded.

Twisting his head sideways to look at Reiko, the priest regarded her with scorn, as though she were at his mercy, not the reverse. “Withdraw your weapon,” he said. “Release me.”

His manner made it obvious that he would say no more unless she complied. Reiko sheathed her dagger and nodded to her guards. They hauled the priest to his feet and stood around him lest he try to attack.

“Who are you?” Reiko repeated.

“My name is Kumashiro. “ He scrutinized Reiko with a hostile, unblinking gaze. His rough voice sounded like rocks shifting during an earthquake.

“From the Black Lotus Temple?”

The priest nodded curtly, although disdain twisted his mouth. “Who are you to ask?”

“I’m Lady Reiko, wife of the shogun’s sōsakan-sama,” Reiko said, observing the sudden wariness that hooded Kumashiro’s eyes. “I’m investigating the fire at the temple. What is your position there?”

“I am second-in-command to High Priest Anraku, and chief security officer for the Black Lotus sect.”

Reiko thought it odd that a Buddhist temple should be organized on such militaristic lines, or require a security staff. Did this have anything to do with prisoners, underground construction, and secret projects?

“You’re a former samurai?” Reiko said, hazarding a guess based on Kumashiro’s scars, physique, and arrogance.

“Yes.”

“Whom did you serve?”

“My clan are retainers to Lord Matsudaira, daimyo of Echigo Province.”

“What is your business with Haru?” Reiko gestured toward the orphan girl, who cowered against the boulder, biting her fingernails.

Kumashiro’s contemptuous gaze flicked over Haru. “I was questioning her about the fire.”

“The shogun has assigned my husband the job of investigating the arson,” Reiko said, stifling her anger. Kumashiro was obviously the common type of man who disdained women as inferiors, but she sensed in him an abnormal hatred for her sex. “You’ve no right to interfere.”

“The safety of the Black Lotus sect is my responsibility,” Kumashiro said, “as is anyone who harms its members or property.” He bared jagged teeth in an unpleasant smile. “You can save your husband a lot of trouble by going away and leaving Haru to me. I shall get her confession, and the sōsakan-sama shall get the criminal he seeks.”

Here was another official who seemed determined to pin the crimes on Haru. “How can you be so sure that Haru has done harm?” Reiko asked the priest. “Where were you when the murders were committed and the fire set?”

A gleam of amusement in Kumashiro’s eyes told Reiko that the priest recognized her intent to cast him as an alternative suspect. “Between sunset and dawn, I made my usual three tours of inspection around the temple grounds, and spent the rest of the time in my quarters. My lieutenants can confirm this-they never left me.”

Another dubious alibi that would be hard to break, Reiko thought unhappily.

“Haru has admitted that she left the orphanage to meet Commander Oyama,” Kumashiro continued with an air of satisfaction. “She admitted that they were lovers, and they used the cottage for their illicit liaisons.”

Shock hit Reiko like a fist to the heart. Even if Kumashiro had forced Haru to incriminate herself, Oyama’s son also claimed that Haru had been involved with the commander.

“Is it true?” Reiko anxiously asked Haru. “Were you having an affair with Commander Oyama, in the cottage where he died?”

The orphan girl ducked her head. Mute, with her face hidden behind lank strands of hair, she looked the picture of guilty shame. Reiko’s heart sank.

“She wanted to be the wife of a powerful bakufu official, so she seduced Oyama,” said Kumashiro. “When she found out that he had no intention of marrying her, she killed him for spite.”

In Reiko’s mind rose an image of Haru glaring at Oyama and spitting on the ground at his feet, as clear as if she’d witnessed the incident that Oyama’s son had described to Sano. She remembered Abbess Junketsu-in saying that Haru had seduced novice priests. Had Oyama exploited Haru, or had Haru used sex to serve her ambitions-then committed murder and arson when her ploy failed?

Reiko envisioned the case as a lotus bud slowly opening to reveal first a white petal, then a black one, then more whites and blacks, with Haru at the center. Every piece of information contradicted or complemented another, painting Haru as either victim or criminal.

“You seem very certain of your theory,” Reiko said to Kumashiro, “but perhaps the crimes stemmed from other illicit activities in the Black Lotus Temple.”

“Such as?” The priest smirked, as though humoring her, but the tendons in his neck tightened.

“Such as the imprisonment and torture of novices. Or the breeding of children by nuns and priests. Or the construction of underground rooms, and the business that takes place there.”

Reiko knew that by voicing these accusations she was putting the sect on its guard; yet she hoped to goad Kumashiro into an admission, because she couldn’t count on Sano to investigate the temple. Regardless of his promise to her and his dedication to the truth, he thought Haru was guilty and the Black Lotus a legitimate sect; he might overlook evidence that said otherwise. The realization that she was losing trust in her husband dismayed Reiko.

“I wonder if the woman in the cottage was a novice who tried to escape, and the child an orphan who died from torture during religious indoctrination,” Reiko said.

Kumashiro laughed, a sound like gravel scattering against steel. “Who told you those ridiculous rumors?”

“There’s often truth in rumors.” To protect Pious Truth, Reiko added, “The metsuke has spies everywhere.”

The tendons in the priest’s neck relaxed: Either he knew she had no proof to support her accusations, or he didn’t fear the Tokugawa intelligence service. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said derisively. Then he strode toward Haru. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Whimpering, Haru scuttled backward on her hands and knees. Reiko stood between Kumashiro and the girl. “You’re not taking her anywhere,” Reiko told the priest.

“She belongs to the temple.” Anger darkened’ Kumashiro’s swarthy complexion. “I’ll deal with her as I wish.”

“She’s under my protection now,” Reiko said, “and I won’t let you torment her.”

Veins bulged in the priest’s temples and rigid arms, as though swelling with fury. He spoke with quiet menace: “Those who interfere with the affairs of the Black Lotus sect always regret it.”

“You dare to threaten me?” Reiko experienced a stab of fear despite her status as the wife of a high bakufu official and the protection of her guards. She saw in Kumashiro a truly dangerous man.

“It’s not a threat,” Kumashiro said in that same menacing tone, “just a friendly warning.”

The hard sheen of his eyes told Reiko that he was capable of murdering three people and framing an innocent girl. A shiver rippled her nerves. She said to her guards, “Escort him off the premises.”

The men seized Kumashiro and propelled him out of the garden. The wind swirled fallen leaves and tossed boughs; raindrops pelted the ground. Reiko knelt beside Haru and put her arms around the girl. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

Haru whispered, “I was so scared I wet my kimono.” Misery suffused her features. “It’s my only one.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Reiko said. “Let’s go inside.”

As they walked together toward the convent, Reiko picked up the package she’d dropped.

In Haru’s room, the orphan girl removed her soiled garment and washed herself. Reiko opened the package and unfolded a fresh white under-robe, a jade green cotton kimono printed with mauve asters, and a mauve sash.

“Here,” Reiko said, “put these on.”

Haru gasped in amazement. “They’re for me? But you’re too generous. I can’t accept.”

“Oh, they’re just old things of mine.” In fact, the garments had never been worn. Although her kind gesture was sincere, Reiko hoped the gift would oblige Haru to be honest with her. She helped Haru into the clothes. “There. How pretty you look! Do you feel better now?”

The girl nodded, her eyes bright with happiness. Stroking the fabric, she said, “I’ve never worn anything so beautiful. A thousand thanks.”

Although Reiko hated to spoil Haru’s pleasure, it was time for serious business. “Haru-san,” she said, “we must talk.”

Haru knelt opposite Reiko. Apprehension furrowed her brow.

“Were you and Commander Oyama lovers?” Reiko asked, keeping her voice gentle.

Haru twisted the ends of her new sash. “No. I only said so because that was what Kumashiro wanted me to say.”

Tentative relief eased the doubt that the priest had fostered in Reiko. “Then you weren’t with Oyama the night before the fire? You didn’t go to the cottage to meet him?”

“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t.”

In her mind Reiko heard Kumashiro’s voice: “Don’t believe everything you hear”-and Sano’s: “Don’t be too quick to take the side of a suspect.” Reiko said, “If you don’t remember anything from that night, how can you be sure what you did?”

Hurt and confusion welled in Haru’s eyes; her lips trembled. In a high, teary voice she said, “I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t set the fire. I could never do those terrible things.”

Feeling like a bully, having serious misgivings about the girl, Reiko forced herself to continue: “Why is Kumashiro so determined to make you confess?”

“He’s afraid that people will think he killed Commander Oyama,” Haru said. “They hated each other. I don’t know why, but I often saw them arguing. And he hates me. He wants to get me in trouble so I’ll have to leave the Black Lotus Temple.”

If Kumashiro and Oyama had indeed been enemies, the priest had a motive for at least one of the murders. But Reiko could not ignore the inconsistency in Haru’s story. “Yesterday you said that you love everyone in the temple, and they all love you. Why didn’t you tell me about Kumashiro?”

Haru squirmed, twisting the sash; her gaze darted. She ventured hesitantly, “I forgot about him?”

The flimsy excuse increased Reiko’s misgivings. “I’ve spoken with Abbess Junketsu-in and Dr. Miwa,” she said, then related the pair’s description of Haru as a troublemaker. “They think you’re unfit to be a nun, and they blame you for the fire. Did you forget them, too?”

Reiko heard her voice rising in agitation, while Haru looked crestfallen. “Are they inventing lies to get you in trouble,” Reiko pressed, “or did you do the things they said?”

Tension vibrated the atmosphere in the room. Rain pattered on the roof and dripped off the eaves. Reiko heard Haru’s rapid breathing. Then the girl hung her head and mumbled, “It was so long ago… I thought I’d counteracted my bad karma.”

Buddhists believed that a person’s actions produced karma-energy that affected life in present and future existences-and that misdeeds could be exorcised by doing good. Foreboding touched Reiko’s heart.

“What bad karma?” she said, wary of what she was going to hear.

“When I first came to the Black Lotus orphanage, I was a very difficult girl,” Haru said in a voice laden with shame. “I had no religious faith. I only went to the temple because I had nowhere else to go. I was upset about my parents dying, and angry at my bad fortune. I hated the food and the chores. I wouldn’t obey the rules. I was rude and disobedient. I was so lonely that I… I would meet boys at night and let them touch me.”

Reiko’s face felt numb, as if too many shocks had obliterated the sensation in her skin. But inside, painful emotions roiled. “You should have told me these things yesterday, when I asked about your life at the temple and who might want to hurt you,” she said. “Instead, you misled me.”

“But I didn’t,” Haru protested. She must have seen disbelief in Reiko’s expression, because she hurried to explain: “I mean, I’m different now. I don’t do those things anymore. High Priest Anraku showed me that I was wrong to act the way I did.” Her eyes glowed with the same joyful radiance as when she’d spoken of the sect leader yesterday. “He taught me that I must rid myself of worldly desires and follow the path of the Black Lotus out of suffering to Buddhahood. So I reformed, I worked hard to make up for the trouble I’d caused and prove I could be a good nun.”

A part of Reiko wanted to excuse Haru’s behavior as the actions of a grieving child who’d had trouble adjusting to convent routine and wanted to forget a difficult period of her life. Still, Reiko was disappointed in Haru for withholding important information, and angry at herself for minimizing the possibility that Haru might be lying. Had the abbess and doctor neglected to mention the change in Haru, or had Haru not really reformed?

“I’m sorry,” Haru quavered. Tears watered her eyes. “I should have told you.”

Reiko’s shaky self-confidence waned. Maybe her break from detective work had impaired her judgment, and she should quit the investigation, as little as she liked the idea. Abruptly she rose and walked to the window. The rainy landscape outside blurred before her eyes as she sorted out her thoughts. Before admitting her mistake to Sano, she must correct it, or he would have every right to forbid her to continue the investigation.

She turned to Haru, who huddled on the floor, watching her anxiously. “Tell me about Commander Oyama,” Reiko said.

Haru shook her head. “I didn’t-”

’ Reiko silenced her with a warning gaze. “If you want my help, you have to tell me the truth. Did you know Oyama?”

Drawing a deep, tremulous breath, Haru lowered her eyes and nodded. “I met him in the summer,” she said. “He would talk to me when I was doing my chores. All the while, his eyes would be looking over me. He made me nervous, and I wished he would leave me alone. But he was an important patron, and I had to be polite to him. So when he asked me to come to the cottage one night, I obeyed.”

Uneasiness stole through Reiko as she wondered if the incident Haru was describing had happened months ago, or right before the fire.

“When I got there,” Haru continued,”he was waiting in the room. The lanterns were lit. There was a futon on the floor. He told me to sit, and he offered me some sake from a jar on the table. I said, ‘No, thank you; I’m not allowed to drink.’ So he drank the sake himself. Then he started undressing. I looked away and said, ‘I think I should go back to the dormitory.’ He said, ‘Not yet.’

“Then he started touching my body. I begged him to stop, but he tore off my clothes and threw himself on top of me. I struggled, but he was too strong. Then he-he-”

Haru entwined her legs and crossed her arms over her bosom, as if trying to defend herself against the remembered attack. Reiko winced as she vicariously experienced Haru’s pain and terror. She said, “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

“I couldn’t.” Sobs heaved Haru’s chest. “I was afraid you would think I killed Commander Oyama.”

Reiko pondered the evidence against Haru. The girl had been in the cottage and raped by Oyama at least once. That gave her reason to hate him. What if he’d raped her again on the night before the fire? That would explain Haru’s bruises. Maybe, while struggling with the girl, Oyama had fallen and hit his head. Then Haru had panicked, set fire to the cottage, and later blocked out the memory.

Or maybe Haru had plotted revenge, lured him to the cottage, and struck him down in cold blood.

Weeping into her sleeve, Haru said, “I’m innocent, but everyone will think I’m guilty. It’s no use hoping to be saved. I know what I must do.” She lifted her head and spoke bravely: “I’m going to confess.”

“What?” Reiko said, surprised.

“I owe a great debt to the Black Lotus sect for taking me in. If they want to blame me for killing those people and burning the cottage, then it’s my duty to confess,” Haru explained. Bowing, she said, “Thank you for trying to help. I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble, but I must ask a favor. Will you take me to the police? I’m afraid to go alone.”

Reiko was caught between opposing impulses. On one hand, she now had much proof of Haru’s dubious character, but none of anyone else’s involvement in the crimes. Maybe Haru was guilty, and Reiko should let her accept the punishment she deserved. On the other hand, Reiko still thought that Kumashiro, Abbess Junketsu-in, and Dr. Miwa warranted further inquiries, as did the two unidentified victims. She wanted to know what High Priest Anraku had to say about the crimes, and whether Sano had discovered more suspects or anything to substantiate the novice monk’s claims, before she made up her mind about Haru. She shouldn’t condemn someone on the strength of inconclusive evidence or denouncements from enemies.

Reiko faltered. “I don’t think you should confess.”

“Then you believe I’m innocent?” Eager hope gleamed in Haru’s streaming eyes.

“The investigation isn’t finished,” Reiko said, compromising between honesty and tact.

Desolation shadowed Haru’s face: She wasn’t deceived by Reiko’s hedging. She hurried to the cabinet and removed a worn cotton blanket, a comb, a pair of chopsticks, and a wooden bowl. She spread the blanket on the floor and set the other items on top of it.

Reiko frowned, perplexed. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t stay here. Kumashiro will come back. If I don’t confess, he’ll kill me.” The words poured from Haru in a frantic rush as her fingers fumbled to tie the blanket around her meager possessions. “I must go.”

“But where?” Reiko said, dazed by events happening too quickly, spinning out of her control.

“I don’t know.”

Likely, she would end up begging in the streets. The thought appalled Reiko, as did the idea of letting Sano’s only suspect go. Perhaps Haru was manipulating her by volunteering to confess, then threatening to run away, yet she saw only one possible course of action.

“Come with me,” Reiko said, taking the bundle from Haru. She put her arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders, although aware that her affection for Haru had waned. “I’ll take you to a safe place.”

Afterward, she must continue investigating the Black Lotus sect-even if it meant breaking her promise to Sano.