The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

7

Treasury Minister Nitta lived in the Edo Castle official district, in a street higher on the hill and closer to the shogun’s palace than Sano. His estate had the same style of architecture as all the others in the district, with barracks enclosing courtyards, garden, stables, and a low mansion raised on a stone podium and crowned by a brown tile roof. But Nitta’s estate was on a larger scale, befitting his exalted rank.

When Sano and a team of his detectives arrived to call on Nitta the next morning, a hard, brilliant blue sky arched over the castle. The sun melted the snow on the roofs, but the intense cold froze the dripping water into icicles that glittered on the eaves. The snow in the roads turned grimy under the horses’ hooves. But in spite of the weather, the treasury minister emerged from the shelter of his house to meet Sano’s party as soon as it reached the front door.

“Sōsakan-sama. How dare you send troops to invade my home and wake me up in the middle of the night?” He gestured at Sano’s men, standing guard in the courtyard. “This is an execrable offense.”

Nitta was a pallid, gaunt samurai whom Sano knew to be fifty years of age, though he seemed older because of his prematurely silver hair. Silver brows bristled over eyes that seemed too dark in contrast; ire compressed a mouth so thin that it appeared lipless. Clad in a kimono, surcoat, and trousers in shades of gray, he looked like a figure in a monochrome painting. He stood on the veranda, hands on his hips and feet pointed outward, glowering down at Sano.

“Would you now kindly explain why you have placed my entire household under arrest?” he said.

“I apologize for the disturbance.” Sano bowed low, as did his men. “But I need to question you regarding the murder of Lord Mitsuyoshi.”

“Murder? Lord Mitsuyoshi?” Surprise inflected Nitta’s high-pitched voice and sharpened his eyes. “How and where did it happen?”

Sano explained, wondering if the treasury minister’s reaction was genuine, or feigned. Then Nitta’s expression turned disdainful.

“And you obviously consider me a suspect. How ridiculous. Well, I suppose you are desperate to find the culprit, but there was no need for you to treat me, or my family, in such a rude manner.”

Yet Sano saw fear beneath his disdain. Nitta was clearly aware that the murder of the shogun’s heir, and a visit from Sano in connection with the murder, posed him great danger. “I did not kill Lord Mitsuyoshi,” Nitta declared, “and all I know about his death is what you’ve just told me.”

“If that’s the case, then we can conclude this matter quickly.” Sano kept his manner deferential, because if Nitta proved not to be the murderer, he could become a formidable enemy. Nitta could retaliate by withholding the treasury funds that financed Sano’s detective corps and investigations. Yet if Sano hadn’t placed Nitta under guard, he would have opened himself to accusations of leniency toward a suspect-and allowed Police Commissioner Hoshina to interrogate Nitta first. It had been a difficult choice, and Sano hoped he’d made the right one.

“Take yourself and your thugs away,” Nitta said. “I shall let you know when an interview is convenient for me.”

Sano stood his ground. “I have my orders to investigate the murder with all due haste. And I respectfully advise you to cooperate, because otherwise, you’ll displease our lord.”

The treasury minister’s dark eyes flared like live coals; then a guise of indifference veiled their angry light. He said, “Come inside.”

In the reception room of the estate, screens painted with lush green forest landscapes enclosed an area around a sunken brazier, sealed out cold drafts, and created the illusion of a warmer season. There, Nitta performed the ritual of welcoming Sano and serving tea with an elaborate courtesy that conveyed his antipathy more clearly than could blatant insults. They sat opposite each other, tea bowls in their hands, and Nitta’s contemptuous gaze challenged Sano to speak.

“Please describe what you did the day before yesterday,” Sano said, “beginning with your arrival in Yoshiwara.”

“It was late evening when my men and I got there. We went to the Owariya because I had an engagement with a courtesan.” Nitta’s statement had an artificial, rehearsed quality; he spoke in the tightly modulated voice of a man conscious that a wrong word could doom him. “Upon arriving at the Owariya, I learned that the courtesan had been requested by another man, and I was asked to yield my appointment. I complied, and my men and I joined a party in the ageya. But after awhile, I recalled some business in town that needed my attention the next morning, so I decided to leave. I paid the Yoshiwara guards to let my men and myself out the gate.”

He added, “Bribing the guards and leaving Yoshiwara after curfew are but minor, common transgressions of the law. They do not implicate me in murder.”

That the treasury minister had omitted compromising details from his recitation intrigued Sano. That Nitta would expect him to believe this limited version of events, and never find out that there was more to the story, insulted his professional honor and goaded Sano to speak boldly.

“What does implicate you are the facts you left out of your story,” he said, and watched caution hood Nitta’s expression. “Or were you going to tell me that the man to whom you yielded your appointment was Lord Mitsuyoshi?”

“I did not consider that fact important.” Nitta calmly sipped from his tea bowl. “Preemption of appointments is common in Yoshiwara, and it would be absurd to think that a man would kill someone for doing him out of one night with a woman.”

“Men have killed because of rivalry over courtesans,” Sano said, remembering duels fought during recent years. “And in this case, the courtesan was Lady Wisteria, the woman you love so much that you reserve her company every night because you’re jealous of her other clients.”

Nitta flapped a hand in impatient dismissal. “Some folk have nothing to do but spread foolish, inaccurate gossip. While it’s true that I did go to see Lady Wisteria that night, and I am her patron, she is just a prostitute, and only one of many that I use.” A brief, vain smile quirked his lipless mouth, and Sano recognized him as the kind of old man who liked to flaunt his sexual potency and needed young, beautiful women to feed his pride. “Wisteria is not an object of my love or jealousy. You should know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Sano felt his patience slipping; his ire flared as it had last night, when the shogun had berated him. He willed himself to remain calm, because losing his temper with a suspect would harm his investigation, and he didn’t want to antagonize Nitta any more than necessary. “So you didn’t care if Wisteria entertained Lord Mitsuyoshi instead of you?” he said.

“Her business was of little consequence to me.”

“You weren’t angry at Lord Mitsuyoshi for taking your place?”

“Not in the least.” Nitta set down his tea bowl and rose. Turning away from Sano, he faced the painted forest on a screen, his shoulders rigid.

“Then why were you so upset about yielding to Lord Mitsuyoshi that you argued with the proprietor of the ageya?”

Nitta whirled, his face suddenly taut with alarm. “Who told you?” Sudden, angry enlightenment flickered in his eyes. “Senior Elder Makino, that old sneak. He was at the party. He must have been eavesdropping, the way he often does.” Though Sano gave no sign of confirmation, Nitta nodded in certainty. “Well, I must warn you against listening to anything Makino says about me. Some years ago, he asked me for a huge loan from the treasury. I declined because his credit is bad. Ever since then, Makino and I have been enemies.”

Had Makino consequently lied to frame the treasury minister? Sano had heard nothing of a feud between the pair, and feuds involving such high officials were hard to keep secret. However, Nitta had a reputation as one of the few honest men in a corrupt bureaucracy.

“I did argue with the proprietor of the ageya,” Nitta said, “but not because I was upset about Wisteria or angry at Lord Mitsuyoshi. My concern was strictly financial. I had paid Wisteria’s fee for the night, and so had Lord Mitsuyoshi. I asked the proprietor for a refund, but he insisted on keeping both fees because it’s the custom.” Nitta puckered his mouth, as if at an unpleasant taste. “I lost my temper with the greedy lout. After I threatened to close down his establishment, he agreed to give me my next appointment free, to compensate for the one I’d lost.”

Sano began to doubt the treasury minister’s veracity and put more faith in Senior Elder Makino because this story seemed so implausible. The samurai class disdained money as sordid and beneath their dignity, and a man of Nitta’s wealth and position shouldn’t have minded losing a much greater sum than the price of a tayu, let alone quibbled over it.

“What did you do after the argument?” Sano asked.

“I stayed for a few drinks. Around midnight, I went home.”

“You walked out of the ageya and straight to the gate, you bribed the guards, then left Yoshiwara?”

Nitta’s gaze turned wary and speculative, as though he was trying to determine how much Sano already knew. Sano kept his countenance opaque. After a moment, Nitta gave a faint grimace, signaling his capitulation to Sano’s bluff.

“No,” he said. “I told my men to wait for me at the gate. Then I went through the back entrance of the ageya, and upstairs. I thought I might be able to have a moment with Lady Wisteria. I didn’t want to leave Yoshiwara without seeing her.”

A crimson flush colored Nitta’s pale cheeks, like blood dropped onto the surface of virgin snow. This first sign of passion in him told Sano that the man had feelings for Wisteria, in spite of his denials, and that he craved more from her than just carnal satisfaction.

“I stood at the door of the guest chamber and listened,” Nitta continued. “Lord Mitsuyoshi was known to drink heavily, and I thought that perhaps he would be asleep, and I could speak to Wisteria.”

Sano pictured the treasury minister hovering outside the chamber, his face engorged with desire and jealousy, longing for his lady while she pleasured his rival.

“I heard her whispering. And him whispering in reply. They laughed together.” Nitta’s eyes burned fever-bright with outrage, as if he thought the couple had been mocking him, the cheated lover. “I couldn’t bear to listen anymore.”

Then he seemed to realize that he’d exposed his private feelings. His expression turned deliberately neutral. Squatting, he gazed past Sano. “I stole out of the ageya, then joined my men at the gate. We paid the guards and began the journey home.”

Excitation quickened in Sano, because Nitta had placed himself at the scene where the murder had occurred, at the crucial time. "You didn’t go into the chamber?” he said.

“I did not,” Nitta said with asperity. “Haven’t I made that clear enough?”

“Did you see Lord Mitsuyoshi at all?”

“I did not. But the fact that I heard them means Lord Mitsuyoshi was alive when I left.” Nitta arranged his body in a kneeling posture, his complexion its normal hue again, his emotions hidden behind a smug smile. “Therefore, I am not the killer you seek.”

The male voice Nitta had heard might have belonged not to Lord Mitsuyoshi, but to his murderer. “Was there anyone present who can confirm what you heard and did?” Sano said.

Nitta shook his head. “The corridor was quite empty.”

So he could have entered the room, Sano thought, and stabbed Lord Mitsuyoshi. The treasury minister could have lied about hearing a man’s voice. Sano had only Nitta’s word as proof that he’d left Mitsuyoshi alive, and no witnesses to say otherwise.

“What about Lady Wisteria?” Sano said. “Did you see her that night?”

“I already told you I’d given up my appointment with her, and I left without seeing her.” Nitta’s look accused Sano of denseness. “Furthermore, what difference does it make whether I saw her or not?”

“Lady Wisteria is missing,” Sano said. “She seems to have vanished around the time of the murder.”

A heartbeat passed. “Indeed,” Nitta said. His silver eyebrows lifted; his tone reflected concern. “And no one knows where she is?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Sano couldn’t determine whether Nitta really hadn’t been aware of Wisteria’s disappearance, or was pretending surprise.

“Unfortunately, I’ve no idea.” Now the treasury minister regarded Sano with incredulity. “Sōsakan-sama, do you harbor the absurd notion that I am responsible for Wisteria’s disappearance, as well as the murder of the shogun’s heir?” His voice rose on a shrill note of scorn. “Such acts would be pure stupidity, and no man rises to my position by being stupid. Even if I did love Lady Wisteria, I would never steal a courtesan from Yoshiwara. Nor would I commit treason on her account. Even if I’d hated Lord Mitsuyoshi, I would never risk my life and honor just to eliminate him.”

Yet a man in a jealous rage could act on violent impulse, regardless of his intelligence or desire for self-preservation. And Sano could well believe that Wisteria was a woman capable of inspiring violent impulses. He’d not loved her himself-their relationship had been primarily physical-but he guessed that a man who did love her would do anything to gain exclusive possession of her.

“What route did you take to the gate?” he asked Nitta.

“I walked up Nakanochō.”

“Did you pass anyone who knows you?”

“Perhaps. But I didn’t notice, because I was in a hurry.” Nitta laughed, a dry, mirthless chuckle. “Surely you don’t think that I abducted Lady Wisteria and hid her somewhere? Or that I killed her and hid her body?”

Someone had done one of those alternatives, Sano believed. “If you didn’t, then you’ll permit me to search your property and question your household.”

Nitta looked affronted. “As you wish,” he said, rising. “But you’ll discover nothing worth your while.”

Sano and his detectives searched the whole estate, including offices, parlors, bathchambers, cellar, and kitchen, barracks, storehouses, stables, garden pavilion, and the family’s and servants’ quarters. They opened chests, barrels, and cabinets large enough to contain a person, and hunted for secret rooms. But they found no sign of Lady Wisteria, nor any evidence to connect Treasury Minister Nitta to her or the murder. They questioned Nitta’s retainers, wife, concubines, relatives, and servants-some eighty people in total-and all told the same story: Nitta had arrived home from Yoshiwara with the retainers who’d accompanied him there, and no one else. Finally, Sano and his men regrouped in the courtyard.

“Maybe everyone’s lying to protect Nitta,” said Detective Fukida, a serious young man. “Their first loyalty is to him, not the Tokugawa regime.”

“Ask the checkpoint guards whether he brought a woman into the castle when he came home,” Sano said. “He might have bribed them to ignore Wisteria.”

“But if she’s here, Nitta must have made her invisible, because otherwise, we’d have found her.” Detective Marume had the strong build of an expert fighter, and a jovial manner now sobered by disappointment. “Did he seem upset to learn that she’s missing?”

“Not very,” Sano said.

“Maybe he knows where Wisteria is,” Fukida said.

“He could have had an accomplice remove her from Yoshiwara and shelter her away from here,” Sano said.

“That would have posed less risk to him than smuggling her out of the pleasure quarter and into the castle,” Marume agreed.

“And if he did, Wisteria would be someplace nearby, where he can have easy access to her,” Sano said. He gave orders to his other detectives: “Watch Nitta. Follow him wherever he goes, and perhaps he’ll lead us to Wisteria. Order troops to begin searching Edo. They should go neighborhood-by-neighborhood and arrest any women who aren’t listed on the residential records kept by the headmen.”

The door of the mansion opened, and Nitta emerged. His face wore a look of vindication. “Are you finished here, Sōsakan-sama? Am I free to go about my business?”

Sano nodded; he and his men bowed, conceding defeat.

“His Excellency won’t be pleased to hear that you’ve wasted so much time on me, instead of pursuing his heir’s killer,” Nitta said with sardonic pleasure. “But just to show you that I bear no hard feelings toward you, I shall give you a bit of advice. If you’re looking for a likely culprit, you might consider a hokan named Fujio.”

A hokan was a male entertainer who sang and played music for guests in Yoshiwara and for wealthy nobles and merchants around Edo. “Why should I?” Sano said.

“Fujio was a client of Lady Wisteria when she first became a courtesan. His love for her is the subject of his most popular songs. But when Wisteria rose to the rank of taju, she rejected him in favor of samurai clients. This made Fujio very angry at her, and jealous of her new lovers, who included Lord Mitsuyoshi.”

The treasury minister spoke in a tone heavy with significance, as if to make sure Sano understood that Fujio had reason for killing Mitsuyoshi and Wisteria. However, it was obvious to Sano that Nitta sought to divert suspicion from himself by implicating the hokan.

“Fujio performed at the party in the Owariya,” Nitta continued. “He could have slipped into the bedchamber, stabbed Lord Mitsuyoshi, and abducted Lady Wisteria.”

Yet perhaps Nitta had killed Lord Mitsuyoshi himself, and now wished to destroy another man who’d enjoyed the favors of his courtesan.

“Thank you for the information,” Sano said, keeping his expression neutral. Though he didn’t trust Nitta, he desperately needed leads. He intended to pay Fujio a visit, whatever Nitta’s motive for casting suspicion on the hokan.

As Sano rode down the street with his men, a clatter of hoofbeats caused him to look backward. He saw Police Commissioner Hoshina and a squadron of troops arriving outside Treasury Minister Nitta’s gate.