“That doesn’t prove I killed him,” Tamura scoffed.

“If indeed you are innocent, and you want to protect your honor-and your life-you’d best tell me everything you know about that night,” Sano said.

An intense frown contracted Tamura’s forehead, slanting his brows so sharply that they formed an inverted chevron over his eyes. Behind them, Sano saw thoughts churning. Then Tamura relaxed his features and blew out a gust of resignation.

“All right,” he said. “There was somebody else besides Senior Elder Makino’s wife, concubine, houseguest, and myself in the private quarters.”

Sano regarded Tamura with disbelief. None of Hirata’s interviews with the residents had placed a fifth person near Makino. Had Tamura been holding this fact in reserve, like a wartime general hoarding ammunition in case the enemy got too close? Or was he inventing a new suspect to cover his own guilt?

“Who was it?” Sano said.

“It was Matsudaira Daiemon,” said Tamura. “Lord Matsudaira’s nephew.”

The young man was the shogun’s latest favorite paramour and rumored to be his intended heir to the regime. He was also a strong supporter of his uncle’s bid for power and a vocal opponent of the Yanagisawa faction to which Makino had belonged.

Concern struck Sano as the investigation took a perilous turn. Dismay sharpened Otani’s features because he understood that his master had just been connected to the murder.

“Why would Daiemon come here?” Sano said.

“He was visiting my master,” said Tamura.

Sano couldn’t imagine Makino allowing a member of the enemy camp into his estate, let alone his private quarters. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier? Why didn’t anyone?”

“Senior Elder Makino ordered us to keep the visit a secret,” Tamura said. “We had to obey him, even after his death.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because I’ve decided that an occasion like this justifies disobedience.” Tamura exuded self-righteousness. “Lord Matsudaira’s nephew might have killed my master. I can’t keep quiet about his visit any longer.”

While Sano scrutinized him, trying to gauge his veracity, Tamura added, “The guards will confirm that Daiemon was here, as soon as I let them know they should.”

Sano intended to talk to them, although he expected they would say whatever Tamura ordered them to say, whether it was true or not. “Suppose you tell me about this visit. When am I to believe it occurred?”

“Just after dinner ended,” Tamura said, ignoring Sano’s skeptical tone. “Everyone was leaving the banquet hall, when a servant came to tell me that Daiemon was at the gate, wanting to see Senior Elder Makino. I went outside and asked Daiemon why he’d come. He said Senior Elder Makino had sent him a message that invited him for a visit. I left him waiting and went to tell Senior Elder Makino. He said to bring Daiemon to his private chambers. I advised against letting in someone from the opposition.” Tamura shot Otani a hostile look. “But it was one of those times when Senior Elder Makino chose to shun my advice. He ordered me to bring Daiemon. He said they had private business, and they were not to be disturbed. So I fetched Daiemon, delivered him to Senior Elder Makino’s office, and left them alone.”

“What happened then?” Sano said.

“I began my rounds. Later, the guards at the private quarters told me that Daiemon had just seen himself out.” Tamura grimaced in disgust. “The fools let him go, even though we have a strict rule that no outsider goes unescorted. I immediately gathered the patrol guards and mounted a search for Daiemon. He was nowhere to be found. The guards at the gates never saw him. No one knows how he got out.”

“So you’re saying Lord Matsudaira’s nephew had free run of the estate?” Sano perceived the implications.

“Yes. Maybe, while we were busy looking for Daiemon, he sneaked back to the private quarters.” Insinuation echoed in Tamura’s voice. “Maybe he finished his business with Senior Elder Makino.”

“Or maybe your story is pure fabrication,” Sano said. Not only did he distrust Tamura’s motives for telling it, but there were too many unexplained details, including why Daiemon had come and how he’d vanished without a trace afterward.

“But you’ll have to check into it, won’t you? That should keep you occupied for a while.” Obviously aware and pleased that he’d given Sano a clue that pointed him straight toward peril, Tamura said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my master’s funeral rites.”

He bowed and went into the house. Sano turned to his watchdog. “What do you have to say about this?”

“Tamura was lying.” Although Otani’s brusque voice rang with conviction, fear gleamed in his shrewd eyes. “My master’s nephew never visited Senior Elder Makino.”

“Do you know that for a fact?” Sano said.

“No,” Otani admitted. His puffy face was slick with sweat, despite the cold. Clearly he knew that if suspicion should taint the Matsudaira clan, all its associates would be in trouble. “But I think Tamura killed Makino himself, and he’s trying to save his own skin by blaming Makino’s enemies.”

These notions had already occurred to Sano, but he couldn’t swallow them without question any more than he could Tamura’s story.

Hirata, accompanied by Ibe, joined Sano and Otani on the veranda. Hirata wore a chastened attitude; Ibe, a sardonic smile.

“What happened?” Sano asked.

Hirata told how he’d discovered that the torn sleeve had come from a kimono he’d found in the concubine Okitsu’s room. He related the dubious alibi that she and Koheiji had given.

“That’s why Koheiji seemed familiar,” Sano interjected. “I saw him in a play.”

Next, Hirata explained how Okitsu had fainted during his interrogation and Koheiji had absconded. “I’ve got detectives after him,” Hirata said. “An Edo Castle physician is with Okitsu now. She hasn’t revived yet.”

Hirata’s unhappy tone told Sano that he expected to be rebuked for the outcome of his inquiry. Sano did wonder if Hirata could have done better, but Hirata had found the origin of the sleeve and unearthed information that might yet prove valuable. And Sano wouldn’t criticize Hirata in front of their watchdogs.

“The actor and concubine can wait,” Sano told Hirata. “We have a new possible suspect.”

He described how Tamura had implicated Lord Matsudaira’s nephew. Interest cleared the unhappiness from Hirata’s eyes.

Ibe jabbed Hirata with his elbow. “See? Didn’t I tell you?” Ibe said. “The actor and girl may have been up to no good, but neither of them killed Senior Elder Makino. The murderer is exactly where I tried to steer you-in the Matsudaira camp.”

“Don’t listen to him, Sōsakan-sama,” Otani said, glaring at Ibe. “He’s just following his master’s orders to attack Lord Matsudaira.”

“Are you afraid your master is headed for a downfall and he’ll take you with him?” Ibe gloated over his rival. “You should be.”

Loud argument, rife with insults and threats, ensued between Otani and Ibe.

“That’s enough from both of you,” Sano said with such authority that the men subsided into glowering quiet.

“Something strange went on in this estate that night, but maybe Senior Elder Makino’s wife, concubine, actor, and chief retainer weren’t the only ones involved,” Hirata said to Sano. “What’s our next step?”

“We’ll have the detectives check Tamura’s story about Daiemon with everyone who was in the estate during the murder. In the meantime…”As much as Sano dreaded the consequences of what he must do, he said, “We’ll have a talk with Lord Matsudaira’s nephew.”