“The places on her body that lay against the floor escaped the fire,” Dr. Ito said, “as did this area here.”

He pointed to the base of her neck. In the dead flesh was a deep, narrow, red indentation. Sano bent close and discerned a pattern: the coils of a thin rope. He straightened, meeting Dr. Ito’s somber gaze, and voiced their shared thought: “She was strangled to death, then left to burn in the fire.”

Now Sano had not one but two deliberate murders, and while the second victim deserved justice every bit as much as Oyama did, her death posed extra difficulties. “How can I find out who wanted her dead and why, when I don’t even know who she is?” Sano said.

“Perhaps she was an acquaintance of Commander Oyama,” suggested Dr. Ito. “After all, they were in the cottage together. Perhaps his family knew her.”

“Perhaps,” Sano agreed, “but who could make a definite identification of her in her present state?”

Contemplating the body, Dr. Ito said, “She was of medium size and build.” With a thin metal spatula he probed the woman’s mouth, around which her burned lips formed a horrible grimace. ”Two back teeth are missing on the right side and one on the left. The others are in good condition and sharp on the edges. The unburned skin is firm and unblemished. I estimate her age at around thirty years.” Pointing at her foot, Dr. Ito added, “The sole is calloused, with dirt embedded in the creases, and the nails are rough. She was accustomed to walking barefoot outdoors, which suggests that she was from society’s lower classes.”

“I’m impressed that you can get so much information under these circumstances,” Sano said. “Now I have a description of the victim.”

“However, it is one that fits thousands of women,” Dr. Ito said. “Maybe her clothes will tell us more.” Using the spatula, he worked loose a strip of fabric stuck to the corpse’s stomach, folding it back to reveal the color and pattern: dark blue, printed with white bamboo branches. “It’s from the type of cheap cotton kimono sold all over town and worn by countless peasants.”

“But the fact that this woman was wearing it indicates that she wasn’t a nun, who would wear plain hemp,” Sano said. “Maybe she came from outside the temple, which would explain why no one there seems to know who she could be.”

Dr. Ito poked his spatula under the cloth. “There’s something in here.”

Sano heard the click of the tool against a hard surface. A small object fell onto the table. It was a round figure the size of a cherry, made of amber-colored jade and finely carved in the likeness of a curled, sleeping deer. A length of string protruded from a hole through the figure.

“It’s an ojime,” Sano said, recognizing the object as a bead used to connect the cords of the pouches or boxes that men hung from their sashes.

“She must have been wearing it around her waist,” Dr. Ito said, “perhaps as an amulet.”

“The design is unique, and it looks valuable,” Sano said. “Maybe it will help me identify her.”

Mura washed the ojime and wrapped it in a clean cloth. Sano tucked it into the leather pouch at his waist, then followed Dr. Ito to the table that held the third corpse, a pitifully small figure beneath its white shroud. “Was the child murdered before the fire, too?” he asked.

Dr. Ito nodded sadly. When Mura drew back the shroud, Sano felt the same powerful aversion to viewing the dead child as he had at the Black Lotus Temple. He hadn’t been able to look yesterday, and he couldn’t now. Abruptly, he turned away, but imagination conjured up a horrible picture of a burnt, wizened little body, its face a dreadful black mask with gaping mouth and empty eye sockets. Sano’s heart began pounding; his stomach constricted. His breaths came hard and fast, inhaling the smell of smoke and burnt flesh. He felt faint. This was his first case involving the murder of a child, and fatherhood had shattered his professional detachment.

Then Sano felt Dr. Ito propelling him out of the morgue. The fresh air in the courtyard revived him. Now he felt ashamed of his cowardly reaction. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m all right now.”

He started to go back inside the morgue, but Dr. Ito gently restrained him. “It’s not necessary for you to see the remains. I can summarize the results of my examination.” After giving Sano another moment to recover, Dr. Ito said, “The child is male. There are old and new bruises on the unburned skin of his back. His neck is broken, probably as a result of strangulation. I estimate his age at two years, but he could be older-his body is severely emaciated, and perhaps stunted in growth. I believe the boy was mistreated and starved over a period of time before his murder.”

Sano deplored the torture of any human, but since Masahiro’s birth, he found the idea of violence toward children particularly abhorrent. Of all the murders, this one disturbed him most. “None of the temple orphans is missing,” Sano said. “Did you notice anything that might help determine who the boy is or where he came from?”

Dr. Ito shook his head. “Because the child’s body was found with the woman’s, it would be logical to assume they were mother and son, but assumptions can be misleading.” He added, “Unfortunately, there are among the poor of Edo many such ill-fed, maltreated children who might end up dead under dubious circumstances. I am afraid that you must employ other methods to identify the woman and boy.”

“I’ve already begun.” Sano had given orders to Hirata before leaving his estate. “Now I’ll be on my way to Police Commander Oyama’s home to interview his family and staff.”

After bidding farewell to Dr. Ito, Sano left the jail. He mounted his horse and rode through teeming streets toward the city center, anticipating the work ahead with a keener determination than usual. Throughout his career, he’d dedicated himself to seeking truth and serving justice, a mission as important to his samurai honor as duty, loyalty, and courage. But fatherhood gave him an added incentive to solve this case. He must avenge the death of the unknown child.

If Haru was guilty of murder and arson, Sano would see that she paid for the crimes with her own life.

Reiko decided that the first step toward determining Haru’s guilt or innocence was to discover what had happened to the girl on the night before the fire. How had she sustained her wounds and gotten to the cottage? Who benefited from letting Haru take the blame for the arson and murder? Surely the answers lay within the Black Lotus Temple.

After leaving the Zōjō convent, Reiko and her entourage traveled west through the surrounding district. Her palanquin made slow progress; the narrow streets between the walls of subsidiary temples were thronged with priests and pilgrims. Reiko’s thoughts turned to Masahiro. What was he doing now? Although she missed him, she had agreed to help Haru, whose life might depend on her.

At the gate of the Black Lotus Temple, Reiko alighted from the palanquin and entered the precinct, leaving her escorts behind. She had an uneasy feeling that Sano wouldn’t approve of her mission, and she decided against speaking with Black Lotus officials because that might interfere with his work. Instead, she would seek out female members of the community who’d been close to Haru. Her strength as a detective lay in her rapport with women, who might be intimidated by Sano’s men.

Reiko stood inside the gate, absorbing impressions. The layout of the compound resembled that of countless other temples. A wide flagstone path bisected the precinct. On either side stood worship halls, shrines, sutra repository, a fountain, bell cage, and other buildings, all constructed in traditional Buddhist style. A black and gold lotus symbol adorned gables and carved doors and the tall, double-roofed gateway to the main hall at the end of the path. Late-morning sunlight glittered upon gray tile roofs and a red pagoda. The difference between this and other temples Reiko had visited was the unusual landscaping.