The Fire Kimono

13

The next morning, while Hirata ate breakfast, Midori entered his chamber, holding a child by each hand. She said, “Good morning, Honorable Husband.”

Her manner was polite, aloof. The children gazed curiously at his bowl of fish topped with sliced ginseng root to stimulate mental and physical energy, fleece flower to strengthen the blood, and lycii berries to improve eyesight. They were somber in the presence of this strange father who ate weird food, said little, and did puzzling things.

“Good morning.” Hirata hadn’t seen Midori since yesterday. She hadn’t slept in their room with him last night. Since he’d returned home they’d shared a bed, but they’d not touched except by accident. Now she’d cut off even this physical contact. The distance between them had widened into an unbridgeable gulf.

“Excuse me for interrupting you,” Midori said.

Overnight something had changed in her. She was behaving as traditional wives did toward their husbands, with restrained civility. This disturbed Hirata more than her fits of temper. Was it a new tactic in this war of theirs? He studied Midori as he would an opponent on a battlefield. His trained perception sensed no aggression in her, no trick to goad him into another argument. Rather, her emotional energy had contracted within her, giving off neither heat nor light for him to read. Baffled, he settled on caution as his best course.

“That’s all right, you’re not interrupting anything,” he said. “Come in. Sit with me.”

“I will if you insist, Husband.” Midori was uncharacteristically meek, subservient. “But I have to feed the children.” They clung to her hands, regarding both parents in obvious fear of another quarrel.

Hirata was tempted to ask what she was up to, but his instincts warned him off. Revealing confusion to his opponent put a warrior at a disadvantage. He felt vexed because he could figure out any man during a sword fight but not his wife in his own home.

“Very well,” he said, matching her formal manner. If this was a game, two could play. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

“Yes,” Midori said. “Detective Arai is waiting for you in the reception room. I came to fetch you.”

Hirata welcomed the prospect of starting the day’s work, which was something he could master. He felt a pang of fear stronger than any he’d experienced in battle. It stemmed from his sense that Midori could hurt him worse than could any foe.

“What does Arai want?” Hirata asked.

“He’s found someone you’ve been looking for. A tutor.”

“One of my search parties came across a lead a few hours ago,” Hirata told Sano as they rode their horses down the boulevard outside Edo Castle. Sano’s entourage rode at their front, flanks, and rear, ever vigilant. “They met a fellow who said he knows a man named Egen who used to be a monk.”

“Can it really be the tutor?” Sano was hopeful yet not quite ready to believe.

“He’s in his sixties, which would put him at the right age,” Hirata said. “And he once belonged to Egen’s temple.”

“And he’s right here in Edo.” That they’d found the tutor after only a day’s search seemed too good to be true. “Maybe this is the break we need to clear my mother, if not solve the crime,” Sano said. “Where is Egen?”

“Living in the Kodemmacho district.”

This was the same neighborhood through which Sano had passed on his way to Edo Jail two days ago. Now there was no need for a disguise. As they rode down the main street that crossed the slum, his party turned heads among the residents. Women lugging babies on their backs and pails of water in their hands stopped and stared. Not many samurai officials came this way. Laborers on their way to work bowed to Sano. Children and beggars trailed his retinue in hope of alms.

Today Sano saw beyond the poverty and the dirt. This investigation had put the Great Fire on his mind. He noted the smoke from many braziers and hearths, so dense that the atmosphere was gray even on a clear, sunny morning like this. The wind whipped the smoke around dilapidated houses set too close together. A fire that started in one would burn many others before it could be extinguished. Wells were few, water scarce. The narrow streets would impede escape. In any natural disaster, the poor always suffered worst.

“According to directions from the man who gave the tip, this is where Egen lives,” Hirata said, leading the way down an alley barely wide enough for the group to pass through single-file. Laundry on clotheslines stretched across the alley brushed their heads. The stench of humans crowded together in unsanitary conditions was overpowering. Hirata stopped his horse at a gate made of dingy boards. “Here.”

Sano, Hirata, Marume, and Fukida dismounted. Hirata pushed open the gate. Leaving the troops in the alley, Sano and the detectives followed Hirata down the muddy passage between the blank, windowless walls of two tenements, past reeking garbage containers. They entered a yard enclosed by buildings. Doors on the lower stories opened directly onto the yard. Balconies cluttered with junk fronted second-story dwellings. Sano heard voices arguing and children shrieking, but the yard was empty except for two unshaven, surly men.

One crouched naked on the ground, pouring water over himself, taking an open-air bath. He carried on a muttered conversation with the other man, who squatted inside a privy shed with the door left open. They both looked up at Sano’s party, but neither ceased his labors.

“We’re looking for Egen,” Hirata said. “Where is he?”

The men pointed at a door on the ground floor. Hirata walked over to it and knocked.

“Who’s there?” a gruff male voice called from inside.

“The shogun’s investigator,” Hirata said. “Open up!”

Sano heard shuffling inside. The door slid open a crack. Out peered a watery, red-rimmed eye. “What do you want?”

“Are you Egen?” Sano asked.

“Yes. Who are you?”

Sano introduced himself and said, “I want to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Let us in, and I’ll tell you,” Sano said.

Egen heaved a sigh of irritation, opened the door, and stepped backward. Entering the room with his party, Sano found a squat old man with frizzled gray hair. His short brown kimono was open to reveal his flabby torso, bare legs, and loincloth. He yawned, evidently having just awakened. His room was a small, dim cave filled with heaps of unidentifiable articles. It smelled powerfully of liquor, sleep, and stale body odor.

“Whew!” Marume said.

He flung open the window. Fresher air poured into the room. Daylight revealed Egen. His face and whole body were covered with pocked, bumpy, discolored skin.

“Whoa!” Fukida said.

“What’s the matter?” Egen said, unflinching under the revolted gazes that Sano and the other men couldn’t tear away from him. “Haven’t you ever seen somebody who’s had smallpox?”

“I’m sorry,” Sano said politely.

“Don’t be,” Egen said. “Just tell me what you want.”

“I need to ask you some questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Were you once a monk at Bairin Temple?” Sano said.

“Yes,” Egen said crossly. “Who told you?”

“Never mind,” Hirata said. “Just answer his questions.”

“Forty-three years ago, did you work as a tutor to Tokugawa Tadatoshi?” Sano asked.

“Yes. In another lifetime.” Egen recalled his manners and said, “Can I offer you some tea?”

He gestured toward a corner that served as a kitchen. Around the ceramic hearth sat a few pots, pans, and bowls, all coated with scum.

“No, thank you,” Sano said.

Fukida examined the heaps, which consisted of old clothes and shoes, broken furniture, chipped dishware and statues, torn paper lanterns, and other damaged items. “What are you doing with all this stuff?”

“I collect it,” Egen said, “to sell. I’m a junk peddler.”

Marume picked up a small, headless Buddha figure. Egen snatched it away and exclaimed, “Hey, that’s valuable merchandise. Do you mind?”

“You’ve come a long way from tutor in the house of a Tokugawa vassal to peddler of junk,” Sano said. “What happened?”

“Bad luck. Is that all you wanted to know?”

“Not quite.” Sano couldn’t help liking Egen, who seemed to accept his lot in life without complaining and was brave enough to stand up to authority. Despite the man’s ugliness, he had a certain charm. “Tadatoshi went missing during the Great Fire. Do you remember?”

Egen nodded. “Oh, yes. I was sent out to look for the brat. Everybody in the house was.” Scratching his chest, he yawned again. “I could use a drink.” He picked up a grimy wine jar and waved it around. “Join me?”

Sano and his men politely declined. Egen drank straight from the jar, coughed and licked his lips, then said, “While I was looking for Tadatoshi, I almost got killed in the fire, like he did.”

“He didn’t,” Sano said.

“What? But he must have died in the fire, because he never came back.”

“Tadatoshi was murdered not long after the fire. His body turned up two days ago.” Sano explained about the unmarked grave near the shrine.

“Well, I never would have thought.” Egen shook his head. “What happened to him? Who did it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Sano said.

“Pardon me, but why bother? It was a long time ago.”

“My mother has been accused of the crime.”

“Oh?” Surprised, Egen asked, “Who is your mother?”

“Her name is Etsuko, from the Kumazawa clan,” Sano said. It still felt strange to realize that the clan was part of his own family tree and he was a born Tokugawa vassal, not just one who’d earned his way into the regime. “She was a lady-in-waiting to Tadatoshi’s mother. Do you remember her?”

“Etsuko, Etsuko,” the tutor mulled. “Oh, yes. Pretty girl.” He swigged more wine. “Did she kill Tadatoshi?”

“No,” Sano said. “I’m trying to prove she’s innocent.”

“Well, good luck,” Egen said, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“My mother’s not the only person who’s been accused,” Sano said. “So have you.”

“Me?” Egen pointed to his own chest, taken aback. He thumped the wine jar down on a dingy table. “I didn’t kill anyone. Who says I did?”

“A man who was Tadatoshi’s bodyguard at the time the boy disappeared. His name is Doi.”

“Doi…” Recollection showed on Egen’s pockmarked face. “So he’s still around. What’s he doing now?”

“He’s a colonel in Lord Matsudaira’s army,” Sano said.

“Well, well.” Egen apparently knew who Lord Matsudaira was. “But I’m not surprised. Doi was headed for big things. So now he’s attacked you through your mother.” He also knew about the conflict between Sano and Lord Matsudaira and suspected that it was behind Doi’s accusation. “What does Doi say I did?”

“That you and my mother conspired to kidnap Tadatoshi for ransom, then something went wrong and you killed him.”

“That’s horse dung,” Egen scoffed.

“Here’s your chance to contradict Doi,” Sano said. “When was the last time you saw Tadatoshi?”

“The morning the Great Fire started. In the house. After breakfast. I gave him his history lesson,” Egen said promptly.

“It was a lifetime ago, and you remember such small details?” Hirata interjected.

“Because of the fire,” Egen said. “When something as big as that happens, you do tend to remember things you’d have forgotten otherwise.”

“All right,” Sano said, willing to accept Egen’s story for now. The man was well spoken and confident. “What did you do after you saw Tadatoshi?”

“Helped fireproof the house. A lot of good that did-it burned down anyway. Then I went looking for Tadatoshi. Nine days after the fire was over, I met up with what was left of the household and found out he still hadn’t turned up.”

“You didn’t happen to run into him?”

“No. I already told you. Not after his lesson.”

“Was there anybody around to vouch for what you say you did during the fire?” Sano asked.

“The retainers and servants, while I was working on the house. Afterward, when we were all sent out to look for him, I got separated from the others. So, no, I guess not.” Egen’s expression turned wary. “Hey, what are you trying to do? Save your mother by pinning the murder on me?”

“No,” Sano hastened to assure him. “I just need a witness to show that Colonel Doi lied.”

Egen grinned. “You found one. I didn’t kidnap Tadatoshi or kill him, and your mother and I didn’t conspire to do anything at all.”

“Good.” Relieved that the investigation was nearing a satisfactory end, Sano said, “I need you to tell that to Lord Matsudaira and the shogun.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Hirata said.

“Lord Matsudaira and the shogun?” Egen held up his hands and waggled them. “Hey, wait, no. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Sano said, impatient.

“I don’t want to get caught in the middle of any trouble.” Consternation clouded Egen’s face as he backed away from Sano.

“You won’t.”

“I sure will if Lord Matsudaira doesn’t like what I say.”

“If you testify, I’ll protect you,” Sano said.

“Hah!”

Fukida said to Sano, “Do you want me to tie him up?”

“Not yet.” If that proved to be necessary, Sano wouldn’t balk, but Egen would make a more credible witness if he testified willingly. Sano tried to reason with him. “You’ll get in trouble if you don’t testify.”

“Oh?” Egen said, suspicious. “How’s that?”

“Colonel Doi accused you as well as my mother,” Sano said. “If the shogun decides she’s guilty of kidnapping and killing his cousin, he won’t stop at punishing her. He’ll come after you next.”

“You’ll be executed,” Fukida said.

“Your ugly head will be stuck on a post by the Nihonbashi Bridge,” Marume said.

Egen staggered with fear. “What am I going to do?” he beseeched Sano.

“If you want to stay alive, then testify,” Sano said. “Your story and my mother’s will refute Colonel Doi’s. It’ll be two against one.”

“I don’t know,” Egen stalled.

“It’s your best chance,” Sano said.

Egen thought for a long moment while Fukida and Marume stood ready to seize him. Then he said with a grudging sigh, “Oh, all right.”