Текст книги "The Emperor's Woman"

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Spies

Tora waited for Saburo in front of Mrs. Komiya’s little house. He passed the time charming Saburo’s landlady, who had noticed him and come out.

“I knew right away he was good man,” she said to Tora after he had introduced himself. “I got a feeling for that sort of thing. And I have a big heart. The poor man looks terrible, and people are unkind or fearful. They believe they see goblins and oni everywhere. Me, I’ve never seen one of those, so I’m not afraid.”

Tora regarded her with surprise. He had never really seen any apparitions either, but he believed in their existence with every fiber of his being. He said cautiously, “Well, Saburo’s had some bad luck. And you’re right. He’s a good man. I can testify to that.”

She smiled and nodded. “And you’re his friend. I must say you two couldn’t be more unlike.” She chuckled. “Hell and paradise, you might say.”

Tora shook his head. “You should look past the outside of things. That’s what Master Kung-fu-tse said.”

“I know, I know. But it’s what people think when they see you two together.”

Tora humphed and wished her gone. Fortunately, Saburo appeared around the corner at that moment, his scarred face breaking into one of his twisted smiles.

“Tora. Mrs. Komiya. You’ve met, I see.”

“Your friend’s a very handsome fellow.” Mrs. Komiya ogled Tora.

“Unlike me,” remarked Saburo, “but he’s a good sort for all that.”

This made her laugh, and she left them to their business.

“I only have a small room,” said Saburo. “Maybe we’d better talk while we’re strolling down to the river.”

“Suits me. The sun’s still high and a walk along the Katsura should be pretty this time of year.”

“Yes. The cherry trees are blooming. But you have news?”

Tora related recent events, making his own role in the rescue a fairly hair-raising feat.”

Saburo was suitably impressed. “I’m glad your master wasn’t badly injured.”

“Your master, too,” reminded Tora. “He sent me to tell you he wants you back.”

Saburo frowned. “I’m no use to him. I’m not even a good secretary. All I do all day long is to keep the accounts. It only takes an hour here or there.”

Tora stopped. “Don’t forget you have other useful skills.”

“Those are the ones he doesn’t approve of.”

Tora said, “He’ll come round. He always does.”

“I know he’s kind, but his position makes it impossible for him to allow the sort of things I do.”

“As long as you don’t kill anyone or cause a scandal, he doesn’t need to know precisely how you get information. He wants you to help me clear Genba.”

Saburo said nothing.

They took up their walk again. Long stretches of greenery hinted at the open countryside. Dotted about were occasional vegetable gardens with fruit trees in bloom and a shrine or two.

They reached the river and stopped under one of the flowering trees. Ducks paddled near the shore. The Katsura River would join the Kamo River south of the capital, and together they would become the Yodo and end up in the Inland Sea. They had both been there, working together and almost dying. It was then that Saburo had joined the Sugawara household.

“Remember Naniwa?” Tora asked.

“Yes.”

A long silence fell, then Saburo sighed. “I think what you propose may be possible, but I dislike concealing my activities from my master.”

Tora burst into a shout of laughter. “That’s surely a lie, my friend. Your whole life’s been dedicated to hiding what you do.”

Saburo’s lip twitched. “Well, yes. You got me there.”

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. The master wants us to find Tokuzo’s killer, and it looks like he’s one of your kind. You’re a spy, and so is he probably. Who better to find him than you?”

Saburo shot Tora a glance. “You make it sound so easy. Do you have any proof he’s a shinobi?”

“I think he’s the man Genba encountered just before the murder. The one who dropped the assassin’s needle. And surely he’s the one who knocked you out inside the brothel and took back his needle?”

Saburo grunted. “It could have been coincidence.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You know I’m right. Someone paid him to kill Tokuzo. The master and I think it may have something to do with Tokuzo’s treatment of his girls.”

Tora explained about the deaths of Miyagi and Ozuru. “I don’t think Ozuru’s family is at the bottom of this, but I haven’t been able to get hold of Miyagi’s people. Their name was Satake. The neighbors say the old people moved away and died, but you never know. The master wasn’t satisfied. Maybe you could find out what happened to them?”

“Yes, but it could still just have been a robbery gone wrong. Tokuzo had all that gold in his place. Maybe he interrupted the robber.”

“You mean the guy Genba ran into was a robber?”

Saburo sighed. “No. If he was a shinobi, he wasn’t there for robbery. There could be someone else involved.”

Tora grinned. “Well, you should know. Will you look into it?

Saburo nodded.

They stood a while longer, watching the ducks and some boats on the river. Above them, the blue sky shimmered through the blossoms of the cherry tree. Then they parted, Tora to return home, and Saburo to begin his search.

Saburo wanted to prove himself. His self-respect had suffered severely when he was dismissed. But he faced a dilemma with this case. In spite of his words to Tora, he was convinced the killer had been a trained shinobi, a shadow warrior, as he himself had been. He had no proof of this, except the reasons Tora had cited and a strong suspicion about his identity.

Instead of going to the address Tora had given him, Saburo decided to talk to Shokichi first.

Shokichi was at work at this hour. At the Sasaya. Steeling himself, Saburo walked to the Willow Quarter and the late Tokuzo’s brothel. His arrival there caused consternation. The customers sitting around drinking stared at him. Saburo called the waitress, a plain girl who turned pale and pretended not to have heard.

“Hoh!” shouted Saburo again. “Service!”

No reaction.

“You there! Girl! Come here. What does a man have to do to get a drink in this place?”

Tokuzo’s mother put her head through a door to see what the shouting was about. The girl finally came, but she avoided looking at him.

“So,” sneered Saburo, “I’m not to your taste, am I?”

She shuddered. “What can I bring your honor?”

Saburo still smarted from her behavior. “How much for a night with you?”

She started shaking. “Twenty coppers,” she murmured so softly he could barely hear her.

“Too much for someone like you,” he sneered. “Where’s Shokichi?”

The girl turned and ran to the back door where she told the old woman who gave a nod and disappeared. Soon, another girl appeared. She was older than the first and approached him calmly, sitting down across from him.

“You asked for me, sir?” She found his good eye and smiled at him.

Bad teeth and a few pockmarks, thought Saburo, but not unattractive. Still, he was not here for that. “You’re Shokichi?” he asked. “Ohiro’s friend?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“I want to talk to you. Suppose we go upstairs?”

“That will cost you twenty coppers.”

He reached for the money. She bowed, rose, and took his hand, leading him to the backdoor, where the old woman waited. Shokichi passed her the coins. She counted, nodded, and disappeared into her room. Shokichi led him to the backyard and up the stairs to a room at the end.

There she placed a couple of dirty cushions on the floor and gestured to the bedding rolls. “You’ve paid. Do you want to make love first?”

“Thank you, no.” The offer pleased him. “You’re not frightened by my face?” he asked.

“No. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

Saburo did not know what to say. He had never met a woman who had offered herself to him in such a matter-of-fact manner. He looked at her silently and found her even more attractive, but he caught himself and said, “You’re back working here. Why? You tore up your contract like the others, didn’t you?”

“I sold it back to the old woman. I needed the money, and she needed someone who knows the business. Things are better. I look after the women.”

He said nothing to this. “I’m trying to help Genba and Ohiro. Tora told me about the two women who died. Miyagi’s parents are gone, and the house now belongs to strangers. Is there anything else you might recall?”

“I didn’t know her family left. They were her grandparents. Her parents died. Miyagi loved her grandparents and went to see them often, taking them what money she could. I think after she died, they had nothing to live on. It’s sad. They were good people who’d come down in the world.” She looked angry.

So Miyagi’s death had caused further misery. Perhaps the old people had also died because their only source of income was gone. “Was there anyone else?” he asked.

“She had a brother. He was a soldier up north. When Tokuzo mistreated her and she cried, I used to tell her to write to him. Miyagi could read and write a little. I don’t know if she did, but she never got any letters, and no brother ever came.”

“What was his name?”

She looked away. “She must have told me, but I don’t remember it. Sorry.” When Saburo said nothing, she added, “I expect he died a long time ago in the fighting. Or else he took a wife up north and won’t come back.”

Saburo looked at her steadily until she started fidgeting. “There must be someone else who killed Tokuzo,” she said nervously.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Thank you. You’ve been a lot of help.” He got to his feet.

“Help? How?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I don’t know yet.” He hesitated, then said in a rush, “Perhaps some day when you’re free, you’ll allow me to buy you a meal somewhere?”

She blushed. “Maybe, but we’re not supposed to meet customers outside. You could come back here.”

“No,” said Saburo, with a glance around. “You deserve better.”

He left disappointed and strangely stirred by the encounter. She had told him what he wanted to know, even though she had not intended to do so. She had lied about not knowing the brother’s name, and he admired her for it.

It was a bad situation all around.

He went next to the city administration for the western wards. There he asked for the property lists of the ward where the Satake family had resided. He found them quickly: grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, two children. Father and mother had died the same year four years previously, perhaps during the epidemic. The grandparents had remained with the grandchildren: a boy, Narimitsu and a younger girl, Nariko. Nariko must be Miyagi’s real name. The property had changed hands last year, a few months after Miyagi died.

So far, he was no closer. He had merely confirmed what Shokichi had told him. And yet he was certain she had lied about something else.

What if the brother had returned to the capital after all, only to find his sister dead and the family home sold? It would surely make him a prime suspect in Tokuzo’s murder. But how was he to prove this? And where would he find the man?

In Akitada’s household, Saburo had learned to be meticulous. He made another search, this time for the whereabouts of Miyagi’s grandparents. This produced nothing and suggested the old people had left the city. Since he did not know where they might have gone, consulting tax registers was pointless.

It was time to change to another tack. Late that night, Saburo visited a small monastery in the northern foothills. He had to walk and did not reach his destination until well past the hour of the boar. He hoped to get his information and set out on the return journey in time to reach the capital at day break and steal a few hours sleep before reporting to his employer, the rice merchant.

The monastery was too insignificant for elaborate walls and gates, and it did not bother to lock people out. There was nothing to steal here. The monks who lived in this small outpost had other gifts.

As he passed between the wooden buildings, his steps mostly muffled by dewy grass, he looked for a light somewhere, a sign that one of the monks was awake even at this hour.

Instead, the hair on the back of his head suddenly tingled, and he jumped aside. The jump caused him to slip on the wet grass and come down hard on one knee and a hand. A black figure loomed momentarily, blocking out the starry sky. Then its weight crashed down on him.

Saburo grunted and struggled to free himself. In vain. The other man was bigger, younger, stronger. Giving up the unequal contest, he gasped, “Monkey on the roof.”

The other relaxed his grip slightly. “Shinobi?” he asked.

The voice was young. Feeling depressed by the difference between them, Saburo said, “Yes.”

The other jumped up and grasped Saburo’s wrist to pull him upright. In the darkness they faced each other. Their features were shadowy, but Saburo saw that the other was much taller and broader than he and felt a bit better.

His attacker reached for his face. “Mask?” he demanded.

“Ouch! No.” Saburo slapped the other’s hand away. “Mind your manners,” he growled.

“Sorry.” The young monk sounded contrite. “Didn’t know. What are you doing here?”

“I need information.”

“About what?”

“Let me speak to the abbot. Is it still the Reverend Raishin?”

“Yes. Come along then.”

They walked past several shadowy buildings and came to a smaller hall. All was dark inside, but the young monk stepped up on the veranda and cleared his throat. After a moment, a voice from inside asked, “Yes, what is it?”

“It’s Kangyo, Reverence. There’s a visitor here.”

They heard the sound of a flint, and then a soft golden glow seeped through the cracks of the door and a shuttered window. “Come in.”

Saburo followed the young monk through the door he held open. For a moment he blinked against the light, then he saw an elderly monk of astonishing size peering up at him. The abbot must easily be of Genba’s build, though in his case, his shoulders and chest bulged with muscles rather than fat.

“It’s you!” the abbot said, his eyes widening.

“It’s me,” Saburo agreed.

“Leave us, Kangyo. He’s one of us.”

“Yes, Reverence. So he said.” The young man hesitated, looking from the abbot to Saburo and back. “Will it be all right? Should I stay close?”

Abbot Raishin frowned. “No, no. Get back to your rounds.”

They waited until Kangyo had closed the door behind him. The abbot said, “Sit down, Saburo. You look tired. I’ve often wondered how you are managing.”

“Thank you. I manage,” Saburo said drily.

“But not easily, I bet. I grieved over what happened, but we had no choice.”

“I know. Once people see my face, they remember.”

“Yes. Why have you come?”

“A friend of mine is in trouble because of something done by a shinobi. I came to get information about the man.”

“You know I cannot give you information about our people.”

“I think this man may not be one of ours.”

“I see. That’s different. Tell me about it.”

Saburo told Genba’s story from his encounter with the stranger and the dropped needle to his being arrested for Tokuzo’s murder. Then he waited.

The abbot had listened with a lively interest. Now he smiled and said, “That was very careless of him.”

“To be fair, he probably didn’t expect to collide with a wrestler,” said Saburo. “There’s more. I also encountered him. At least I assume it was the same man, because we both had taken an interest in Tokuzo’s place. I got there before him and took the women’s contracts. When I was leaving, he jumped me in the dark hallway. When I came to, the contracts and the needle were gone.”

Abbot Raishin frowned. “It could have been another burglar.”

“He found the needle, though I carried it in the seam of my jacket. Only someone in our business would know where to look.”

“Perhaps. Still, it’s not proof. If this Tokuzo was as evil and as wealthy as you say, he could well have had several enemies.”

Saburo’s heart sank. “It’s all I have, except that Genba remembers the man smelled as if he’d just come from a bathhouse.”

Raishin sat up. “A bathhouse? Now I wonder. Needles. Hmm.”

“Yes,” said Saburo, hope rising again. “It occurred to me also. I agree it’s far-fetched, but there’s a link.” He told the abbot how he had ended up in the beggars’ guild and how none of the beggars had wanted to answer his questions or Tora’s.

The abbot nodded. “We have taken note of this person. He’s not been here long. The first reports reached us a few weeks ago. He received his training in the north. But I must tell you he doesn’t seem to be an assassin. A shinobi, yes, but he hasn’t killed anyone to our knowledge.”

“Do you think it’s possible he killed Tokuzo?”

The abbot spread his hands. “All things are possible. I wish I could be more helpful.”

Saburo bowed. “Thank you, Reverence. I think I’ll take a closer look at him.”

Raishin said, “It’s a difficult issue, this question of justice. I don’t envy you.”

Saburo nodded and got to his feet. He was almost out of the room, when he heard the abbot say softly, “Most likely the killer has a very troubled conscience himself.”

The Journal

The ride to Koryu-ji had been more than Akitada should have undertaken so soon after his fall. When they reached his home, he slid from the saddle and clung to it while waves of pain washed over him. The worst of it was that he would not have been in condition to fight off another attack or protect his sister.

“What’s wrong?” asked Akiko, sounding irritatingly chipper as she got down from her horse.

“Nothing. I’ll be all right in a moment.”

“Here comes help,” she said. “I’ll run in and see Tamako.”

Tora appeared by his side, and then, to his surprise, Genba. They also wanted to know what was wrong. Akitada pushed himself away from the horse and took a deep breath.

“It’s just some soreness from the fall. Genba? I’m so glad to see you, but what happened?”

Genba regarded him with moist eyes. “Superintendent Kobe let us go, sir. I expect we owe you our thanks.” He bowed.

“It wasn’t my doing. We haven’t found the killer yet. Saburo is working on it. Kobe must have decided his case against you wasn’t strong enough.” Akitada embraced Genba. “Welcome home,” he said, then stepped back to look him over.

Genba wiped his eyes and smiled, speechless at this reception.

“Well,” said Tora, clearly embarrassed by all this emotion, “I think it was high time the superintendent realized you’re innocent. And what about all those floggings?”

Akitada said, “Yes, I’m sorry about all you’ve had to suffer. How are you?”

Genba grinned. “It was nothing, sir. I’m very well. But what about you? Tora told me what happened.”

“I’m also very well … now that you’re back,” Akitada said happily, patting Genba’s shoulder. “We really missed you.”

“Thank you, sir. Let us help you into the house.”

Akitada walked leaning on Genba’s strong arm. In his study, he got behind his desk. “Sit down, both of you. Genba, what about Ohiro? Is she free, too?”

“Yes, sir. She’s gone to stay with Shokichi.” Genba shot Tora a glance.

“But I thought you and she … I was under the impression … .” Uncertain, Akitada stopped.

“Well …” Genba looked to Tora for help.

“Genba thinks it will be best if he visits her in the city.” Tora was clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh.” Akitada looked from one to the other and frowned.

Tora bit his lip. “We thought you wouldn’t want another woman from the amusement quarter under your roof.”

“What nonsense! Another woman? You mean Hanae?” Tora nodded, and Akitada snapped, “You were wrong. Hanae is part of my family, as are both of you. You are like brothers to me. How could I deny either of you the joy of raising a family? My fortunes aren’t great and my future isn’t promising either, but if you’ll settle for what we can offer, Genba, and if you wish to take a wife, I will welcome her and your future children into my house. The same goes for Saburo. If I have given you a different impression in the past, I’m sorry. I tend to worry about the company you keep, but you’re both grown men, and I have no right to interfere in your lives as long as you respect my family.”

They both gaped at him.

When nobody said anything, Akitada smiled. “Are you happy here, Genba?”

“Yes, sir, but … are you sure? Ohiro … I love her dearly and she’s a sweet and good woman, sir, but she did work in a brothel. Hanae never did.”

“I’ve learned a few things lately about how young women end up in places they shouldn’t be, sold by their parents to men who mistreat them. Ohiro’s not to blame for what her life was like in the past, as long as she will be a devoted wife to you.” Seeing Tears well up in Genba’s eyes again, Akitada added quickly, “And now you two had better go and see about living quarters for Genba and his bride.”

They left grinning, with Genba muttering his thanks over and over again.

Having thus arranged his household to his entire satisfaction, Akitada stepped out on his veranda and stretched. The garden was peaceful in the afternoon sun. Sighing with pleasure, he drew Lady Masako’s journal from his sleeve and went back inside.

It was tastefully bound in pale green brocade with a pattern of golden shells and white cherry blossoms. He undid the darker green silk ribbon and opened it. The paper was of the finest quality, and the lady’s brush strokes proved she had a good education. The journal was short and tended to skip days.

He settled down at his desk and started reading.

The entries were dated by the year and month, and it appeared she had started the diary soon after she had entered the palace. As was customary, she referred to herself in the third person and never by name. This device made the diary read like a tale about an imaginary character and was, no doubt, meant to protect the author’s identity.

It occurred to Akitada that he had no proof this was Lady Masako’s journal except for Lady Hiroko’s word. He would have to read the entries carefully, looking for internal evidence of the author’s identity.

The first pages described the season—it was spring, and the writer grieved at not seeing the cherry blossoms of her former home—but soon she mentioned incidents: visits from a father, then from a brother, court festivities, seasonal observations, more parental visits. Interjected poems began to suggest first melancholy, and then sadness: “Alas, each day brought deeper grief; each week another lament,” and “In sorrow her days passed without comfort.”

After the initial introduction to His Majesty, which dwelled in detail on the lady’s gowns, there were no more references to the emperor. To Akitada this implied that her hurt at being rejected by the young monarch was too great to allow her to make the slightest reference to Him.

Akitada had progressed this far, when quick steps approached. Then the door opened, admitting Akiko and his wife. The ladies were wide-eyed with curiosity.

“There you are,” said Akiko. “And you’re reading it. Why didn’t you wait for us?”

Akitada frowned. “I intend to absorb the contents in peace and quiet. I can’t think when women chatter in my ears.”

Akiko hissed. “Shameful! When I was the one who got the journal for you. You are the most ungrateful creature.”

Tamako smiled and came to sit across from him. “You look tired, Akitada. I had the water heated for your bath. It will soothe your aches and pains.”

He looked at her gratefully. “Thank you. I’ll bathe as soon as I’ve had a look at this.”

“What about us?” demanded his sister. “You cannot keep it to yourself.”

Tamako said, “She has a point, Akitada.”

Akiko sat down beside her, her chin in the air. “I’m not leaving until I’ve read the journal.”

Akitada sighed. “Very well. I’ll read it out loud. But don’t interrupt constantly.”

The ladies smiled triumphantly and settled themselves comfortably on their cushions. Akitada turned to the beginning and started reading. They listened, sometimes exchanging glances and nods, but remained quiet. It was not until he was well past the middle of the diary and had reached a passage where a page arrived and passed a branch of flowering orange to the lady that his sister spoke.

“A note from Prince Tametaka? Who is that? There is no Prince Tametaka.”

Akitada gave her a reproving look. “She probably means Atsuhira; she’s hiding his true identity.”

“Oh! How fascinating!” Akiko clapped her hands.

Akitada ignored this and continued. It seemed to him Atsuhira had pursued Masako rather early in her career at court, but he said nothing of this.

The writer passed over the incident of the flowering orange branch or the note attached to it, only composing the conventional poem in response. However, the poem was certainly suggestive: “The scent of orange flowers is welcome to one whose sleeves lack such perfume.”

The ladies gasped. Akiko said, “That’s an invitation.”

Tamako merely looked shocked.

Akitada was beginning to enter into Lady Masako’s frame of mind. The rejected young woman wrote of her loneliness. No wonder she longed for love.

The affair began soon after. The prince called on her and spoke to her through the lowered reed curtains. His poems suggested they make their dream a reality. She responded, “I dream sweet dreams; my sleeves are wet with tears. If I take the dark path alone, we will meet in paradise.”

A few nights later, he slipped into her room, and they became lovers. He marked the occasion with a poem on the meeting of their souls. She told him, “The cuckoo’s song was full of pain; now it is summer and he sings with full-throated joy.”

He paused. Had Lady Hiroko known of the forbidden meeting inside the palace? More than likely. And summer would soon be over.

Akiko sniffed. “Hurry on. We still have nothing to point to murder.”

Entries followed about more shared nights and exchanged poems. The meetings in the palace were deemed too dangerous, and the lady arranged outings so she could meet him in his villa. He talked of marriage. She worried about scandal. And still the time spent in the imperial palace hung heavy on her hands. She had no friends except Lady Hiroko, who appeared in the journal now and then as Lady Sakyo. Her father stopped his frequent visits but sent angry letters. At some point, he demanded she return home. She obeyed, but the journal contained nothing about the visit. It picked back up late in autumn, when she was back in the palace.

At this point the tone changed. She had made up her mind to leave her service to the emperor in order to live with the prince. However, there appeared to be difficulties. Lady Masako did not specify what they were, but they seemed to have to do with the prince’s household.

Having got this far, Akitada paused again. “My throat is dry. Let’s have some wine.”

Tamako rose quickly to get it.

Akiko said, “It seems strange nobody in the palace caught on. He managed to creep into her room a number of times, and then she was always going off on excursions. It must have been very dangerous. If he was so eager to take her to wife, he should have done so much sooner.”

Her brother nodded. “Yes. I thought so, too. Prince Atsuhira has played fast and loose with young women before. Perhaps he got cold feet?”

She nodded. “Men are such cowards.”

“Not all men, surely.”

“No, but there are enough of those like the prince at court. If you ask me, Masako was a fool. Even at eighteen, a girl knows better than to listen to such honeyed words.”

Akitada thought back to his last encounter with the prince. “He seemed very distraught over her death. I wonder if it was Lady Kishi who found out about their plans and made difficulties.”

“Kishi would have done more than make difficulties. She would have gone to the emperor.”

“Really?” Akitada was surprised by this and wondered what might have happened if she had done so. But, no, he did not believe the palace would engage assassins.

Akiko said, “No. Kishi doesn’t love her husband. You have to love a man madly to cause a scandal like that.”

Tamako came back, followed by her maid with a tray containing a wine flask and three cups. The maid set this down and poured, then left again. Akitada drank thirstily and refilled his cup immediately. The ladies sipped.

“Akitada thinks Kishi might have informed the emperor of the affair,” Akiko told Tamako.

“Surely that would simply have meant sending Lady Masako home in disgrace,” Tamako remarked.

“Exactly,” nodded her husband. “Still, might she have written to Masaie?”

They pondered this but found no answer.

“Go on with the reading,” urged Akiko. “If she did, we’ll find out soon enough.”

In the middle of the Gods Absent Month, Lady Masako went home again. Akitada paused, looking at the women.

“Strange,” murmured Tamako. “She couldn’t expect anything but more harsh reprimands from her father, yet it sounds as though she requested permission to travel.”

Akiko cried, “I have it. She found out she was with child. It’s the only possible explanation. She couldn’t stay in the palace in that condition.”

Akitada said mildly, “It wouldn’t have been noticeable under all those gowns you women wear.”

Akiko snorted and Tamako smiled. “There are other signs,” she told her husband.

He flushed. “Oh, but would anyone know beside herself and her companion?”

Akiko said, “Certainly. In the imperial palace, there are ladies assigned to taking note of such changes.”

Akitada was embarrassed and decided to go on with the reading rather than pursue such matters.

As it turned out, Lady Masako returned to the palace a week before her death in the Frost Month. The entries were even shorter now. She noted the arrival of winter, perhaps because her visits to the mountain villa became more arduous. Somehow, Akitada sensed that a decision had been made.

“I try to read your heart,” she wrote in one poem to her lover, “while snow falls on my melancholy days.”

“It sounds as though she realized too late she couldn’t rely on him,” commented Tamako. “He’s not a good man. Could he have killed her?”

Silence fell as they considered this.

Akiko nodded first. “I like it. He’s never had a conscience when it came to women. I think he did kill her. How will you prove it though? Go on and read the rest. What does she say just before the day she died?”

“If he killed her, he didn’t try to cover up the affair,” Akitada reminded her. “It got him in all this trouble.”

Akiko pursed her lips. “The trouble happened because your friend insisted on going to the police.”