“Okitsu!” the actor exclaimed.

She lay inert, her long eyelashes resting motionless against her cheeks, her mouth slack. As Hirata stared in dismay, Koheiji knelt beside her and caught up her limp hand.

“Speak to me, Okitsu,” he begged. When she didn’t respond, he glared up at Hirata. “Look what you did! She needs a doctor. I must fetch one immediately.” Koheiji ran from the room.

“Come back!” Hirata ordered.

The actor didn’t. Hirata patted Okitsu’s cheeks, trying to revive her. She was breathing, but she didn’t rouse. “Go catch Koheiji,” Hirata commanded Ibe.

Ibe just grinned. “That’s not my job. Remember what you said: I’m just supposed to observe.”

Hirata seethed inside.

“A lot you’ve accomplished here,” Ibe said snidely. “I hope you’re happy.”

Hirata swallowed a retort that would get him in deeper trouble with Ibe. He wanted to groan in frustration.

He’d weakened Okitsu’s alibi and connected her to the murder. But if, despite her lie, she hadn’t killed Makino, then he’d hurt an innocent girl. Even if Okitsu was guilty, Hirata couldn’t get any facts from her now. Hirata had also undermined Koheiji’s alibi, but the actor had escaped him.

It was an inauspicious beginning for the quest upon which his worth to Sano, and his own honor, depended.

Excuse me if I don’t understand what we have to talk about that we didn’t already discuss yesterday,” Tamura said to Sano.

They stood outside Makino’s mansion, on a veranda where Tamura had brought Sano when he’d requested a private interview. They leaned, facing each other, against the veranda railing that overlooked the garden. Mist and clouds obscured their view of the palace above the official quarter. Nearby, Otani loitered. Rain dripped from the overhanging eaves and wetted the floorboards. Sano suspected that Makino’s chief retainer had chosen this cold, uncomfortable place in order to keep their talk short.

“There are a few matters I need to clarify,” Sano said.

Tamura scowled as he intently watched Sano. “I told you that I found my master dead in his bed. What could be clearer than that?”

Your wish to limit your testimony to that one statement of fact, Sano thought. “Let’s talk about the time leading up to when you found Senior Elder Makino. When did you last see him alive?”

“It was after dinner the previous night,” Tamura said with a weary air of humoring Sano.

“What happened then?”

“I asked Senior Elder Makino if there was anything he needed me to do. He said no and retired to his private quarters.”

“What did you do after that?”

“I made my usual evening rounds of the estate. I checked that the guards were covering their territory and the gates were secure. My aide accompanied me. He can vouch for what I did.”

“And then?” Sano prompted.

Tamura hesitated for an instant, just long enough that Sano perceived he’d chosen to omit or alter something in the sequence of events. “I retired to my own room.”

After his talk with Makino’s wife, Sano had privately inspected Tamura’s quarters. These were two rooms-a bedchamber and adjoining office-located on the side of the building perpendicular to the one that contained Makino’s chambers. Sano had noted the movable wall panel that separated Makino’s bedchamber from Tamura’s office. He was not surprised that the search revealed nothing of interest. Tamura was smart enough to guess that Sano would search his rooms and to destroy anything that incriminated him.

The office contained only records pertaining to the management of the estate. The bedchamber housed Tamura’s few clothes, bedding, and other necessities, all stored with neat precision. A special cabinet held his armor and many weapons. Each sword, dagger, and club occupied its own rack. None of the racks were missing a weapon, Sano noted, and the weapons bore no traces of blood. If Tamura had used one of them on Makino, he’d cleaned and replaced it afterward.

“What did you do after you went to your room?” Sano asked.

“I worked in my office until midnight,” Tamura said. “Then I went to bed.”

“Did you hear any noises from Senior Elder Makino’s chambers?”

Tamura glared into the rain. “Not a one.”

“Senior Elder Makino was beaten to death in his chambers, which are right next to yours, and you didn’t hear anything?” Sano said skeptically.

A dour expression curved Tamura’s mouth downward. “I wish I had. Then I would have woken up and saved my master.”

Still doubtful, Sano said, “Were you and Senior Elder Makino on good terms?”

“Very good.” Pride rang in Tamura’s voice. “I served him well for thirty years, and I was his chief retainer for twenty. Our clans have been linked for three centuries. My loyalty to him was absolute. If you won’t take my word for it, just ask around.”

Sano would. He planned to check the statements and backgrounds of all the suspects. “Had there been any problems between you and Makino-san?”

Flashing Sano a look of exasperation, Tamura said, “Of course. No two people can live and work together for thirty years in complete peace. I’ll admit that he wasn’t an easy man to serve, but I revered him, no matter that he got crankier as he aged. That’s the Way of the Warrior.”

Sano contemplated the nature of the bond between master and retainer. It was the closest, most important relationship in samurai society, akin to marriage, and fraught with tension. The master gave orders, which the retainer must always obey. Their unequal footing, and the constant need to efface himself, often grated on a samurai’s pride. Sano thought of the trouble between himself and Hirata, and he could easily imagine that Senior Elder Makino had exceeded the limits of Tamura’s endurance.

“Had you any recent quarrels with your master?” Sano said.

“I would call them disagreements, not quarrels,” Tamura said. “When he did things that I thought were wrong, I advised him against doing them. That’s a chief retainer’s duty.”

“What were those wrong things he did?” Sano said, hoping for reasons that Tamura might have wanted him dead.

“Nothing important.” Tamura’s tone said he didn’t intend to elaborate.

“Did he reject your advice?”

A wry smile twisted Tamura’s mouth. “Often. He liked making his own decisions. He was difficult to sway.”

“Did you mind that he didn’t listen to you?”

“Not at all. A master has the right to do whatever he wants, regardless of what his retainer might say.”

Sano had the feeling that Makino had been a constant trial to Tamura, who didn’t seem the kind of man to appreciate having his advice ignored. “How did he treat you?”

“Usually with respect,” Tamura said. “But when he was in a bad temper, he shouted curses at me. I didn’t mind. I was used to it.”

Nor did Tamura seem a man to readily tolerate abuse. Sano said, “Did you ever want to punish Senior Elder Makino for mistreating you?”

“By murdering him, I suppose you mean.” Hostility narrowed Tamura’s eyes. “For a samurai to kill his master is the worst violation of Bushido. I would never have killed Senior Elder Makino for any reason.” Anger clenched his hand so hard on the veranda railing that his knuckles whitened. “That you would even suggest I did is the worst insult to my honor. I should challenge you to a duel and make you apologize for your accusation.”

Sano could tell that Tamura was serious, whether guilty of murder or not. The last thing Sano needed was to fight Tamura and either kill his suspect or lose his own life. “I’ll apologize right now for making any accusation that’s unjust,” he said mildly. “But even you can see that the circumstances suggest you killed Senior Elder Makino. You were one of a few people in his private quarters with him. Your rooms adjoin his. And you found his body.”