Текст книги "The Incense Murder"

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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THE INCENSE MURDER

by I. J. Parker

* * * *

Joel Spector

* * * *

Heian-Kyo (Kyoto): Clothes-Lining Month (March), 1010 A.D.

On a gray spring morning in a week of cold, drizzling rains, Akitada was summoned by his mother. Their relationship was strained at the best of times, but on this occasion she would get him involved in a case that was not only deeply disturbing but nearly ended his career and perhaps his life. He would forever after fear dealings with his parent.

But that morning, unsuspecting, he walked along the covered gallery and saw that the roof had sprung another leak. He sighed; he expected to be told to fix it. They had no money to spend on workmen and no servants able to carry out the heavy work.

Lady Sugawara was at her morning devotions, kneeling and bowing before the small Buddha statue on a shelf in her room. Akitada sat down to wait and looked around. At least the roof was solid here. The house might be falling down around their ears, but his mother’s quarters would remain as comfortable as ever. She would not have it any other way.

She made her final bow and turned. “Ah! Akitada, I want you to go to your Cousin Koremori.”

O-tomo Koremori was a cousin on Akitada’s mother’s side and no connection to the Sugawaras, a fact for which Akitada was grateful. Koremori was past fifty now, a wealthy man who had married well, and a recent widower. Since he had lost his only son Akemori in a duel a few years before and was now childless, Akitada’s mother had initiated more cordial relations. She expected Koremori to leave his property to her or to her children when he died. Koremori knew it and behaved accordingly. Akitada could not abide Koremori.

He said, “I cannot go immediately, Mother. I am due at the Ministry.”

His mother raised her brows. “Nonsense. Why should you not make time for a close family member? Please remember who you are.”

What he was was a junior clerk in the Ministry of Justice and in enough trouble already. “I could go after work, Mother,” he said reluctantly.

She frowned. “Very well, but don’t forget again like last time. I want you to take him this fan. He admired it the last time he was here. Tell him it’s a small present to cheer him up. Oh, and write a suitable card for it.”

The fan was his mother’s favorite and dated back to better times. That she was willing to part with it meant she was embarking on a new campaign to influence Koremori’s final arrangements.

Akitada took the fan, bowed to his mother, and retreated.

* * * *

That evening Akitada arrived at the O-tomo residence feeling resentful. The weather had worsened. Wet, cold, and tired from an unprofitable day in the archives, he did not look forward to this visit and hoped to make it a short one.

Koremori sat behind a large desk in an elegantly furnished study. Handsome shades were lowered to keep the room cozy, and silk cushions awaited guests. Above him hung a scroll with the admonition: “Remember your duty to past and future generations.” When the servant admitted Akitada, he looked up and stared at Akitada with his usual unpleasant expression.

As a child, Akitada had thought of him as a fat toad because of his bulbous eyes and broad face. Today he looked more than usually toadlike.

“Oh, it’s you,” Koremori said ungraciously and gestured toward a cushion.

Akitada sat down and sniffed the air. The room reeked. The smell was not unpleasant, just powerful. Some of the redolence came from his cousin’s perfumed robe. Sandalwood and cloves. But other scents mingled and Akitada saw that a table held preparations for an incense guessing game.

This game was an aristocratic pursuit in which the participants submitted their own concoctions anonymously, then guessed the ingredients and chose a winner for the best fragrance. Akitada disapproved of such waste of money, time, and intelligence.

He bowed and said stiffly, “My mother sent me, Cousin. She recalled that you admired this trifling object on your last visit and asked me to present it to you.” He took the fan from his sleeve and passed it to Koremori.

Koremori’s wide mouth twitched. He glanced briefly at the words Akitada had written on his visiting card and attached to the gift, then laid fan and note aside.

“Tell your mother I am obliged for her thoughtful present.” He stared at Akitada. “So. Still a clerk in the Ministry, are you?”

“Yes, Cousin. I hope I see you well?”

“Never better.” Koremori’s lip twitched again. “Be sure to tell your mother. She takes a great interest in my health.”

Akitada felt himself flush. Koremori never missed an opportunity to make him feel small and his mother mercenary.

Koremori added, “Apart from her ill-advised marriage, she has always shown proper family feeling.”

Akitada did not consider himself related to Koremori. He was a Sugawara. Though innocent, his most famous forebear had been found guilty of treason and had died in political exile to the subsequent ruin of his descendants. Akitada reminded himself, as always, that he had nothing in common with Koremori, either in their values or appearance. Akitada, tall and as slender as a whip, regarded Koremori’s short, fat body as just punishment for overeating and indolence. His cousin’s luxurious lifestyle was, to Akitada’s youthful idealism, immoral and indecent. But remembering his mother, he suppressed his anger and said nothing.

Instead he averted his eyes from the offensive Koremori to look around the room and he noticed the incense table again.

A man given to excess in everything from family pride to fine food, O-tomo Koremori was a connoisseur and passionate practitioner of the incense cult. He spared no expense in this pursuit and was counted among the most knowledgeable experts on exotic ingredients.

The paraphernalia on the table included packets of incense in neatly labeled envelopes or twists of expensive papers. The lacquerware utensils were dusted with gold and silver and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Small ladles of silver and gold lay beside burners of gilded bronze.

Koremori suddenly clapped his hands and shouted, “Out, vile creature!” Akitada jumped, but his cousin was not addressing him. Flushed with anger, he rose to throw his ink stone at a small black and white kitten. The stone brushed the little animal, which squealed and scurried under the desk. Koremori scanned the room.

Akitada said quickly, “It’s only a kitten.”

“I hate cats. Is it gone?”

“It’s gone,” Akitada lied. From the corner of his eye, he saw the kitten emerging and stretching a tentative paw for his red paper card that dangled from the edge of Koremori’s desk.

Koremori sat down again. He clearly wanted Akitada gone as much as Akitada wanted to leave. Both tried to find the appropriate words. Koremori said, “I am quite busy at the moment with preparations for another incense party, and the cat could spoil everything if it disturbed the samples.”

The kitten snagged the card and withdrew with it under the desk.

Akitada said politely, “Your expertise in that field is well known, Cousin. Under the circumstances, I won’t take up more of your time...”

But Koremori had heard the rustling of paper and peered under the desk. He roared, “Kenzo!”

A young boy ran in. His black hair was tied into two fat brushes over each ear, and his bright eyes took in Akitada in a single measuring glance before he told Koremori, “Kenzo’s busy, Master. Will I do?”

“Why is this cursed cat running loose in my room?” Koremori pointed under the desk. “Take it back to its mistress this instant! If I ever find it here again, I’ll have you whipped.”

The boy got to his knees and scooped out the kitten, detaching Akitada’s card from its teeth and putting it back on the desk. “Come, little tiger,” he crooned, “let’s go into the garden and watch the goldfish.”

Koremori glowered after them. “Did you see that? Not so much as a bow!”

Akitada got to his feet. “I shall give Mother your message, Cousin,” he said.

Koremori nodded. “I wish I had more time to chat,” he said grudgingly. “My household has been standing on its head all day.”

As if on cue, the door flew open again, and a very beautiful young woman swept into the room, silk gowns fluttering and long hair trailing on the floor behind her. Her clothes were exquisite, the short sleeves of her embroidered Chinese coat revealing many layers of harmoniously hued robes of the thinnest silk.

“Oh, darling,” she cried, “have you seen my kitten?” She stopped abruptly and looked in consternation at Akitada.

Koremori had turned a deep red. He cleared his throat. “Forgive the interruption, Akitada. This is Yoshiko. Yoshiko, my dear, do not worry. No harm is done. Akitada is only a cousin and he is leaving.”

Akitada bowed to the young woman. He wondered what his mother would make of the news that Koremori had a mistress.

The pretty Yoshiko blushed, fluttered her lashes at him, then sank gracefully on a cushion. “Cousin Akitada,” she murmured. “How very pleasant to meet you.”

“He is leaving,” snapped Koremori.

Akitada bowed again, to both this time, and departed.

* * * *

When he made his report to his mother, she sat bolt upright. “Who is she?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, Mother. Just a pretty young woman. I thought she might be his mistress.”

Lady Sugawara hissed. “Mistress. Or concubine? And you say this so calmly? What if she gives him a child? What then?”

Akitada did not care, but he said, “He is no longer young and not at all handsome.”

“Fool! What difference does that make? He is wealthy and she is beautiful. You did say she was beautiful?”

Lady Yoshiko was indubitably beautiful. Akitada nodded.

“Hmm. This is not good.” Lady Sugawara stared through her son, deep in thought. “Of course it may not last,” she finally said, “but meanwhile you must double your efforts to ingratiate yourself. Make yourself indispensable. Remind him that blood ties outweigh all other bonds in importance. Show a loving concern for his health by mentioning the risk of exertion at his age.”

Akitada sighed inwardly. “I’ll try, Mother.”

The following morning the weather had cleared a little and Seimei, who had been his late father’s secretary and now served as general factotum in the Sugawara household, brought in Akitada’s rice gruel and another urgent summons from his mother. Akitada gulped down his food and hurried to his mother’s room.

She looked excited. “Quick!” she said when she saw him. “Run over to Cousin Koremori’s right away. He needs your help.”

Akitada shook his head. “I am due at the Ministry, Mother.”

“It cannot wait,” she snapped. “Someone is trying to kill him.”

Surprised by his mother’s concern, which was so exactly contrary to her hopes, Akitada asked, “Should we interfere?”

Lady Sugawara stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry. I meant, how do you know?”

“Never mind. Hurry up and go over there. He will explain. And remember what we talked about. Here is your opportunity to demonstrate your devotion.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Akitada bowed and went to work as usual.

* * * *

When he arrived at his cousin’s house that evening, he found the police there and wondered if Koremori’s fears had been real after all. The servant who met him reassured him. It was not his cousin who had died, but an elderly maid.

As they passed Koremori’s ancestral shrine, the door opened and a constable stepped out. He recognized Akitada, who had spent too much time at court hearings and murder investigations—thereby irritating the police captain, Kobe, and his superior, the minister of justice.

The constable grinned. “Is it you again, sir? It must be murder for sure then.”

Akitada grinned back and stopped. “Not guilty this time. I’m just paying a visit to a family member. What happened?”

“Lord Koremori sent for us. He found his wife’s nurse dead on the floor in here.” The constable gestured at the shrine.

Akitada peered past him. The tiny room was exquisitely furnished. On its walls were paintings of famous incidents involving O-tomo forebears, and on the altar table a finely carved and gilded statue of the Buddha presided over the name tablets of the deceased, prominently among them that of Koremori’s son.

In front of the altar, an old woman lay on the floor, her body twisted, her hands clutching at her throat, and her tongue protruding from a blue-tinged face. The footed bowls with offerings of food and money, the incense burners, and the candlesticks that had stood on the altar lay scattered across the floor. Oranges, coins, ashes, and a number of dead flies and moths were among the utensils on the polished boards. It looked as if the poor woman had done the damage before dying in painful convulsions. Her fingers had left fumbling traces in the ashes from the incense burners. A heavy, acrid smell hung in the air.

“Was it murder?” Akitada asked, stepping inside and bending over the corpse. There were no obvious signs of an attack.

The constable shook his head. “I doubt it. No wounds. No contusions. No signs of strangulation. She was an old woman with a weak heart. The captain didn’t see anything wrong either, but Lord Koremori kept insisting that she was poisoned by the incense and that the poison had been meant for him. The smell’s still pretty strong, but I ask you, who would die from sniffing incense? His Lordship got quite rude when we didn’t agree with him.” He gave Akitada another grin. “Maybe you can get this straightened out, sir.”

Akitada had a sinking feeling that he should not have come at all. Kobe would find out that he had been here and complain to the minister again. He shook his head at the constable’s suggestion and followed the servant to his cousin’s study.

Today Koremori looked ill. He sat behind his desk chewing his fingernails. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I sent for you this morning.”

“I was working at the Ministry,” Akitada said.

“You might have considered that my problem outweighed whatever it is you law clerks do all day long,” Koremori said angrily. “You are a great disappointment to your mother and me. At your age, my son Akemori was already a captain in the emperor’s personal guard.”

He was probably right about his work, but Akitada was not about to agree. Koremori had always thought his late son excelled in all areas while Akitada was a dismal failure. He had this in common with Akitada’s mother.

“I wanted you to be here to make sure the police don’t gloss over this matter,” he continued when Akitada said nothing. “My assassin must be found. Frankly, this Kobe fellow struck me as a lazy official.”

“Kobe is a hardworking and conscientious officer. You can safely leave the matter in his hands.” It was the truth, even though the captain had never missed an opportunity to be ungracious to Akitada.

Koremori seemed to swell. “Are you refusing to help me?”

Akitada bit his lip and said, “What makes you think someone is trying to kill you?”

His cousin settled down. “That’s better. Well, as you know, I am preparing for another incense party. I believe the old crone helped herself to some of the incense from that table over there. With the judging to be tomorrow! And now I have a death in the house, and the whole affair will have to be called off. It is outrageous.”

A house where there had been a death was taboo because contact with the dead made people ritually impure. But clearly this had not prevented Koremori from sending for Akitada, who said somewhat curtly, “Tell me about the dead woman.”

Koremori scowled. “She was my late wife’s nurse and then my son’s. I should not have kept her. She was clearly past her duties. She only took care of the ancestral altar, replacing the food offerings and burning incense to the spirits of the dead every morning. When the servants found her dead, they called me.” He paused and gazed into the distance—perhaps picturing the scene in his mind. “‘Dead as dust and cold as copper coins,’ you might say.”

In addition to incense parties, Koremori was also devoted to poetry contests and practiced whenever an opportunity arose.

“Dust and copper coins?” Akitada did control his sarcasm.

“Don’t be dense. It’s what she was lying on. Ashes from the overturned incense burner and a little pile of coins from one of the offerings to the dead. The line symbolizes the futility of human desires rather neatly, don’t you think?”

“Very appropriate.” Akitada felt slightly sick.

“You may jot it down for future reference,” Koremori said.

“What about the incense? How did she get it?”

Koremori rose. “Come and see for yourself.”

On the table near the door, the tray now held only one small packet wrapped in paper, tied with silk, and labeled with an elegantly brushed phrase. One end of the paper twist had been opened and refolded carelessly. Akitada bent and sniffed. The remnant of ground incense inside seemed to have the same odor as the ancestral shrine.

He had heard stories about people becoming ill after experimenting with exotic combinations of incense ingredients, but like the constable, he had never encountered a case where the victim had been killed. The opened package was labeled transcendent life.

“How do you know this was poison?” Akitada asked. “Apparently the police think the nurse died from natural causes.”

“Hah! That shows you what they know. There was a very unpleasant smell in the shrine. When we found the dead woman, my majordomo mentioned that she had complained earlier about running out of incense, but she had clearly found some. Then I came in here and I saw that this sample had been opened. It arrived late yesterday. I decided to test it. But after getting a pinch started, I was called out of the room. When I returned, there was the same strong stench in the room and Yoshiko’s cat lay on the floor, dead. I held my breath and ran to open all the shutters to air out the room but nearly fainted anyway. There’s your proof that someone wants to murder me.”

Akitada regarded his cousin. Koremori looked very ill, but Akitada did not like the note of triumph in his voice. Still, poisonous incense would explain the dead flies in the shrine. There was something vaguely troubling about the scenario, something that had nothing to do with Koremori’s fears. “Whose incense sample is this?” he asked, nudging the opened paper with his fingernail.

“I don’t know. The samples are anonymous. We identify each sample by its title.” Koremori detached the label and gave it to Akitada before returning to his desk.

Akitada followed, frowning at the label. “But why would the nurse help herself to a contest sample?” he asked.

“How should I know? She was a very unpleasant and disobedient servant and was probably too lazy to get fresh incense from the household stores. Really, it served her right.” He paused, then added, “It was lucky in a way. If she had not helped herself, I would not have discovered the plot and would be dead by now.”

Akitada thought the luck depended on your point of view. His dislike for Koremori increased. He laid the label on the desk. “Whom do you suspect?”

“No idea. That’s where you come in, my dear Akitada. Your success in criminal investigations is well known. You will work it out quickly, I’m sure.”

“If this is a murder case, I’m afraid I cannot get involved. The minister has strictly forbidden it.”

“Soga?” Koremori waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. I will speak to him.”

“I doubt he will permit it. He has been very clear on that point in the past. I regret that I cannot be of assistance, Cousin, but Captain Kobe is very efficient.”

Koremori opened his mouth to protest when the door opened and a teary-eyed and agitated Lady Yoshiko rushed in. “Oh, Koremori,” she cried, wringing her hands, “it is too dreadful! What shall be done about poor Oigimi? I’m too distraught to manage.” She saw Akitada and blushed. “Cousin Akitada,” she murmured, raising her sleeve to dab at her eyes.

Koremori looked away.

“Perhaps,” offered Akitada, “I may be of assistance, Lady Yoshiko. If you are worried about funeral arrangements for, er, Oigimi, I could stop at a temple and ask the monks to come and read the services.”

She looked at him with a tremulous smile. “You are the kindest man, Akitada,” she murmured. “Do you think they would come?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Akitada,” snapped Koremori. “Oigimi was her cat.”

“Oh,” said Akitada.

The young woman looked reproachful. “She was a very beautiful cat, black with four white paws, and so sweet. She never left my side. I am sure some divine creature’s soul inhabited her body.”

“Never mind, my dear.” Koremori was irritated but he restrained himself. “We are very busy just now. Please speak to one of the servants about the cat.”

“You never liked Oigimi,” Lady Yoshiko accused him with a charming pout. She turned to Akitada. “He always thought the poor little sweet thing would disturb his papers.” Her eyes fell on the desk, and she saw the incense tag with the words Transcendent Life. “Oh,” she said, “I shall ask Sakanoue,” and left.

An uncomfortable silence fell, then Akitada asked, “Who is Sakanoue?”

“A friend. A distant relation who amuses Yoshiko. But to get back to my problem. What will you do? Remember, the killer may try again.”

“Is there someone in your household who would want to kill you?”

Koremori threw up his hands. “How should I know? I treat my servants well.”

“What about your friends? Specifically the participants in the incense party?”

“Quite impossible! And don’t ask for their names. They are far too important to be troubled with questions.”

Akitada raised his brows. “You are not making this easy. Who would benefit from your death?”

Koremori’s mouth twitched. “Apart from some small bequests for the servants, my property will go to your mother.”

Akitada felt trapped. “Very well. If you can get permission from the minister, I’ll look into it.” He picked up the tag. “The handwriting is elegant. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t say.”

Since further conversation seemed unprofitable, Akitada rose to leave.

* * * *

As he had suspected, his mother took an avid interest in the news about Koremori’s will. “Very proper,” she concluded. “I daresay Koremori exaggerates his danger, but it is good to know that his affairs are in order. There is still the young woman. Of course the affair may not last, but meanwhile you must spare no effort to ingratiate yourself. Make yourself indispensable. Exaggerate the danger. Convince him that but for you he might die. In short, act like his son Akemori would have acted under the circumstances.”

The thought was revolting, but Akitada said, “Yes, Mother.”

* * * *

A messenger arrived early the next morning with a note from Koremori: “I have spoken to Soga. Come.”

Reluctantly—it was amazing that even a dull day in the archives seemed preferable—Akitada returned to his cousin’s house to question Koremori’s majordomo.

He found Kenzo, a small, thin, middle-aged man of neat appearance, in the ancestral shrine, instructing the youngster who had removed the kitten from Koremori’s room in the proper polishing of the floor.

“A terrible thing,” Kenzo said. He shook his neatly coiffed head. Every strand of his hair had been pulled back sharply, wound about with a black silk cord, and tied at the precise apex into a smooth loop. As a result of this extreme hairstyle, his thin eyebrows were permanently raised, as if in astonishment at the oddities of life. “Tomoe—she was the dead woman—asked me for incense that morning. I went immediately to the storehouse, but the supply was gone. I think the maids must have helped themselves. I suggested she skip the incense just once, but she refused quite rudely. She should never have taken the master’s incense, but she always thought of herself as belonging to her dead mistress and her son.” He shook his head again and adjusted the black sash that held the stiffly starched blue cotton robe at his neat waist.

“It’s surely unusual for an experienced servant to disobey in this manner,” Akitada suggested.

Kenzo agreed. “Tomoe has always been difficult. She came here as her late ladyship’s nurse and took orders from no one but her mistress. It was very frustrating. All the other servants disliked her.”

“Why was that?”

Echoing Koremori, Kenzo said evasively, “She was an unpleasant person.” When Akitada raised his brows, he added, “It’s true. Even the master had trouble with her. Only the day before she died, I heard them shouting at each other in the master’s study. Imagine a servant shouting at the master of the house! A very unpleasant woman.”

At this point, the boy looked up from his chore and said, “Tomoe took money and things from people. I told the maid not to give the old demon her best sash, but she slapped my face and said to keep my mouth shut.”

“And very good advice too,” said Kenzo. “Nobody asked you.” He apologized to Akitada. “He’s only a silly boy and not very bright, as you can see, sir.”

“Not at all,” said Akitada, smiling at the boy. “I am sure he is quite clever.”

The boy nodded. “I watch everything and I remember. You were visiting the master yesterday and the day before that. Go ahead, ask me about the master and Tomoe.”

“Enough, Jiro!” snapped Kenzo.

But Jiro had something to prove. “I heard them. The master was going to send Tomoe away, but she talked about her mistress and Master Akemori, and the master got really quiet, and when she came out, she looked very pleased.”

Kenzo lost his temper. “Leave the room this instance, Jiro. You’re as foolish as a monkey.”

Jiro gave Akitada an impudent grin, dropped his oily rag, and scampered off.

Akitada did not agree with Kenzo’s estimate of Jiro, but he said nothing. Instead he asked, “Were any of Lord Koremori’s guests regular visitors in this house?”

“Ah, you mean the incense party. Only Lord Sakanoue. He’s related to the young lady, I believe, and visits her quite often. The other gentlemen only attend for the incense guessing.”

Koremori had refused to give Akitada the names of the contestants, but Kenzo had no such reservations. When Akitada asked, he listed them. “In addition to Lord Sakanoue, there was the senior secretary of the imperial household office, the captain of the inner palace guards, the recorder in the ministry of popular affairs, the abbot of the Ninna Temple, and Professor Tachibana from the university.”

It was as he had thought. They were men above and beyond reproach and incapable of concocting poisonous substances in order to do away with Koremori. Akitada thanked Kenzo for this very precise and useful information and asked to speak to some of the other servants.

This effort also produced little that was new. They had not liked Tomoe and had hoped the master would dismiss her. They denied taking or hiding the incense stores. They refused—quite properly—to comment on the new mistress or her relative, though Akitada caught a smirk or two from the maids. The general feeling was that Tomoe had died from old age and poor health and that they were not particularly sorry.

Akitada thanked them and went to find his cousin.

“Well,” Koremori greeted him, “have you learned anything yet?”

“Yes,” Akitada said grimly. “You were not the intended victim.”

Koremori’s jaw dropped. “But...”

“The nurse was meant to die.”

Koremori sneered at that. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who would go to such lengths to get rid of an old woman?”

“She was blackmailing the people in this household. I think she blackmailed you.”

His cousin glared. “How dare you suggest such a thing!”

“What did you and Tomoe quarrel about the day before she died?”

“Who says we quarreled?”

“Kenzo. He overheard you. My guess is that you tried to dismiss her and she threatened you. What did she know that would make you tolerate her in your house?”

Koremori flushed and looked away. His pudgy fingers drummed on the desk. After a moment, he heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose it had to come out. You see before you a broken man. I’m ashamed of my foolishness. Look at me, Akitada. I’m old and ugly. Yoshiko only wanted me for my wealth. I knew about those visits from the handsome Sakanoue, but she claimed they were related and merely good friends. I accepted it. I’ve been very lonely since my wife died. I did not want to lose Yoshiko. It was hopeless, of course. I surprised them caressing each other. The nurse, who should have been there, left them alone together—a serious dereliction of her duty, but no doubt Sakanoue paid her off. I was very angry with the woman and called her to my study to dismiss her. She became rude and threatened to tell people about the affair. That is what Kenzo overheard.” Koremori shuddered and buried his face in his hands.

Akitada felt an unaccustomed surge of pity for his cousin.

Koremori dropped his hands. “It must have been Sakanoue who tried to poison me. Yes, I’m sure it is his handwriting on the tag. Yoshiko recognized it too—do you remember? Dear heaven, perhaps she even helped him. Oh, what a fool I’ve been!”

Akitada did not like any part of this theory and stiffened his resolve. “Are you accusing your mistress and Sakanoue of plotting to kill you? What would be their motive?”

Koremori made a face. “Isn’t it obvious? They are lovers.”

“That is ludicrous. The poisoned incense could have killed everyone at the party, and Sakanoue was to be a participant.”

“You forget that I test all samples first. He knew that and expected me to be dead before the judging. I don’t think I like your attitude, Akitada. What is the matter with you? You’re my cousin. We are family.”

Akitada snapped, “By marriage only, I’m thankful to say.”

“What?” Koremori’s face reddened. “You would do well to think before you insult me.”

“I have thought. You killed the old woman because she blackmailed you, and now you are trying to punish Yoshiko and Sakanoue by accusing them.”

Koremori’s eyes bulged. “Have you gone mad?”

“Sakanoue and Yoshiko have no need to kill you. Yoshiko can leave you anytime. But your pride cannot tolerate scandal. I expect the nurse knew that.”

“That is an outrageous lie. Get out of my house, now!”

“I’m not done, Cousin. There is still the little matter of murder. As an expert in the preparation of incense, you are familiar with poisonous substances, and you knew the nurse was fanatical about her shrine ritual. You made sure there would be none of the usual incense in the house. Then you prepared the poisoned incense and left it where she would find it. You murdered her, Koremori.”