“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have business to discuss,” Junketsu-in said.

The curt dismissal infuriated Reiko, as did the pair’s refusal to let her interview their superior. But she was a mere woman, without official authority, outnumbered six to one, with no choice except to bow and rise. “Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, hiding her anger.

The abbess’s eyes signaled a wordless command to the nuns. Silently they accompanied Reiko out of the convent with the obvious intention of making sure she left the temple. Walking down the path, she saw Detective Marume enter a building, in the company of a priest: It looked as though the Black Lotus sect wasn’t allowing Sano’s men to conduct their investigation without official escorts. Reiko couldn’t trust Haru, but neither should she rely upon the damning testimony of two people who so clearly disliked Haru and had their own secrets to hide. She wouldn’t let the sect control the investigation or run her off the premises.

Stalling on the path, Reiko said, “Excuse me, but I must visit the place of relief.”

The nuns hesitated, then nodded and led Reiko to a wooden privy shed nestled among pines at the back of the convent. Mounting the two steps to the door, she told the nuns, “You needn’t wait.” She closed herself inside the dim, cramped space. A hole in the floor stank of human waste. After waiting a moment, Reiko opened the door a crack and peered outside. The nuns stood nearby, watching the privy. Reiko sighed in exasperation. How could she shake off her guards without creating a spectacle that would offend the sect, upset Sano, and intimidate the people she hoped to question discreetly?

At the sound of a soft tap-tap behind her, Reiko spun around. In the back wall was a window screened with wooden slats, and through the gaps between these Reiko saw a narrow head with prominent ears. It was the monk from the convent balcony.

“Please, Honorable Lady, I must speak with you,” he said in an urgent whisper. “I have important information.”

Hope banished Reiko’s initial fright. “About what?” she whispered back.

“Meet me outside the temple. Please.”

Then, with a rustle of quick footsteps on dry pine needles, he was gone.

Masahiro’s screams echoed through the house. Since his mother had left him several hours ago, the nursemaids had tried to pacify him with food, toys, and affection, but frequent tantrums continued. By noon, Midori, who had come to visit Reiko, learned that her friend had gone out, and stayed to help with Masahiro, could no longer bear the uproar. She and O-hana, the youngest maid, escaped into the garden. Sunlight filtered down on them through the red maples.

“Peace and quiet at last!” O-hana exclaimed. A girl of nineteen, she had a sharp, pretty face and a saucy smile. “Lucky you, being a lady-in-waiting. You don’t have to put up with squalling brats. You can just sit around with Lady Keisho-in all day long. I don’t understand why you want to be here, when the young master is driving us all mad.”

“Oh, I like coming here,” Midori said. She smoothed her pink silk kimono, disheveled from holding the baby. “Reiko and the sōsakan-sama are so kind to me. And I like Masahiro.”

O-hana said slyly, “Is there someone else you like?”

Midori blushed to think that the maid had noticed her watching for Hirata. She’d met the sōsakan-sama’s chief retainer three years ago, after hearing stories about his expedition to Nagasaki, where he’d saved his master’s life and captured a band of smugglers. He seemed like a samurai hero from history, and Midori had liked Hirata immediately. He was honest, kind, and, unlike other Tokugawa samurai, he didn’t scorn her family background.

She was a daughter of an “outside lord”-a daimyo whose clan had been defeated at the Battle of Sekigahara, then forced to swear allegiance to the victorious Tokugawa. Although Midori was pretty and the powerful Niu clan one of the wealthiest, she found herself left out of the flirtations and marriage negotiations between palace ladies-in-waiting from important families and young bakufu samurai seeking advantageous matches. The men ignored her in favor of girls with better connections to the shogun, and she lacked the beauty and guile required to lure them in spite of her circumstances. She’d grown resigned to marrying some unattractive man who had been rejected elsewhere.

Yet Hirata had seemed wonderfully oblivious to the financial, political, and class concerns that shadowed every relationship. He behaved as though he liked Midori for herself, and her friendship with Reiko gave her the perfect opportunity to further her acquaintance with him. She spent all her free time at the sōsakan-sama’s estate so she could see Hirata whenever his work permitted. They shared a fondness for games, and often played cards together in the evenings. During their talk, laughter, and flirtation, Midori had fallen in love with Hirata. Now she hoped with all her heart to see him today.

A buzzing noise interrupted Midori’s thoughts. Something whizzed past her ear.

“A wasp!” O-hana cried. The insect swooped down upon her, and she shrieked, covering her head with her arms.

Her panic was contagious. Midori screamed as the wasp veered straight at her face. She and O-hana clung to each other, running in circles, with the wasp in hot pursuit.

“Help! Help!” they cried.

The wasp caught in Midori’s long hair, fluttering and buzzing furiously against her neck. “Get it off me!” she screamed. Anticipating the sharp sting, she fell to her knees.

O-hana stared in terror and backed away. Then a male voice said, “What’s going on here?”

Midori looked up to see Hirata, sturdy and youthful at age twenty-three, his two swords at his waist, regarding them with curiosity. Joy leapt within Midori. “There’s a wasp in my hair!” she cried.

Hirata knelt beside her. Carefully he picked out the wasp by its wings, carried it across the garden, and tossed it up into the air. The wasp flew away. Hirata returned to Midori and O-hana.

“You’re safe,” he said, laughing.

Midori scrambled to her feet, gazing upon him in bliss. He was so brave and wonderful. It didn’t matter that his face was too wide and his mouth too large for him to be called handsome. She yearned for his love and longed to marry him, even though her family would shun a match with a former policeman, while Hirata’s position merited a better bride than the daughter of an outside lord. However, one evening two years ago, something had happened to make her believe that her dreams could come true.

She and Hirata had been walking here in the garden together when a summer storm descended. They took refuge in the covered pavilion and stood side by side, listening to the thunder, watching the lightning flash through the dark clouds and curtains of rain.

“This is pleasant,” Hirata said.

“Yes,” Midori murmured. Look at me, she pleaded silently. Tell me you love me!

Hirata turned and smiled down at her. “I always feel happy when I’m with you, Midori-san. You’re so easy to talk to, and you make life so bright.”

Thrilled by his words, Midori couldn’t speak. She looked down so that. Hirata wouldn’t guess what a stir he’d caused in her. Then his strong, warm hand closed around hers. The thunder boomed and rain streamed down while Midori waited in breathless anticipation.

Then Hirata spoke softly, as if to himself: “The sōsakan-sama and Lady Reiko are so happy together and so right for each other that it’s as if theirs wasn’t an arranged marriage but a love match. That’s what I’d like someday. I wonder…”