“Do you hate Wisteria as much as she hates you?” he asked Momoko.

“Of course not. I love all the girls as if they were my daughters.” But the yarite’s indignation rang false. She said sharply, “Something bad has happened to Wisteria, and you think I did it?”

Sano observed how quickly Momoko had responded to the implication that Wisteria had been hurt or killed, then perceived an accusation. “Did you?” he asked.

“No! I don’t know where she is, or what’s happened to her. I swear I never saw her after I left the room!”

“Let’s talk about Lord Mitsuyoshi. How did you feel about him?”

“Feel about him?” The yarite’s face reflected puzzlement, although whether feigned or genuine, Sano couldn’t tell. “Why, I hardly knew the man. I only saw him at parties, and when I brought courtesans to him for appointments.”

“Did you see him again that night?”

“No-that is, not until I found him-” Momoko averted her gaze from Sano and murmured, “Dead.”

“How did you happen to discover his body?” Sano said.

“Well, I went upstairs, and I noticed that the door to his room was open. I glanced inside, and I saw him lying there.”

“Why did you go upstairs?”

“I needed to check on another courtesan who was entertaining a client. These girls behave better when they know someone is listening. And I wanted a moment alone. The party was noisy, and I had a headache, and it was quieter on the second floor.”

That she’d offered multiple reasons when one would suffice warned Sano to doubt them all; yet Momoko was so agitated that he couldn’t tell if she was lying, or just nervous. And anyone would be nervous while facing the threat of execution.

“Your hairpin was the murder weapon,” Sano said. “Can you explain that?”

“My hairpin? It was?” Momoko gave a shrill titter of confusion and surprise, but Sano guessed she’d recognized the hairpin when she’d discovered Mitsuyoshi’s body. “Oh, well, I lost that hairpin ages ago-I don’t remember when. I have no idea how it got there.”

A scornful male voice from the doorway halted her stammering: “I suggest that you stabbed it through Lord Mitsuyoshi’s eye.”

Sano looked up to see Police Commissioner Hoshina stride into the room, followed by Yoriki Yamaga and Yoriki Hayashi. They must have been listening all along. Now Hoshina loomed over the yarite, who recoiled in terror.

“You went upstairs last night,” he continued, “and when you saw that Lord Mitsuyoshi was alone and asleep, you killed him. Then you ran downstairs and pretended you’d found him already dead.”

“No! That’s not what happened!” Though clearly aghast, Momoko smiled and batted her eyes at Hoshina, employing flirtation in self-defense. “I didn’t kill him!”

Anger rose in Sano, because he needed information from Momoko, not frantic denials produced by intimidation. He said evenly, “Hoshina-san, I am conducting this interview. Stop interfering, or leave.”

Hoshina didn’t bother to reply. “Arrest her,” he told Yamaga and Hayashi.

The policemen advanced on the yarite, and she scuttled backward, crying, “No! I’m innocent.” She simpered in a desperate attempt to ingratiate herself with them. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

Sano stood between Momoko and the men. “The evidence against her isn’t proof that she murdered Lord Mitsuyoshi,” he said, glaring at Hoshina.

“It’s enough for a conviction,” Hoshina said.

This was an accurate statement: In the Tokugawa legal system, virtually all trials ended in guilty verdicts, sometimes based on less evidence than that against Momoko. Sano had to forestall persecution of someone who might be innocent. “She has no apparent motive for killing Lord Mitsuyoshi. You’ll not arrest her, at least until I’ve finished questioning her.”

A sneer twisted Hoshina’s mouth. “I’ll finish questioning her at Edo Jail.”

At Edo Jail, prisoners were tortured into talking. “Forced confessions aren’t always true,” Sano said, enraged by Hoshina’s attitude. Hoshina was well aware of the realities of Tokugawa law, but so eager to show Sano up and impress their superiors that he would risk mistakes. “And the investigation has barely begun. There may be more to this crime than is apparent, and other suspects besides Momoko.” He saw the yarite looking from him to Hoshina, and hope alternating with fear in her eyes. “Lady Wisteria must be found and questioned, as must all the people who were in Yoshiwara last night. That will take time.”

“All the more reason to speed things up,” Hoshina retorted. “We both know the shogun expects quick action on this case, and what will happen if he doesn’t get it.” The shogun would punish everyone associated with failing to find his cousin’s killer, and exile or death were likely penalties. “If you wish to drag your feet, don’t expect me to follow your bad example. Besides, if this woman is guilty, I’m doing you a favor by applying pressure to her.”

Hoshina nodded to his subordinates. They seized the yarite by her arms, dragging her upright. She didn’t resist, but quaked in their grasp, her eyes wild with terror as she appealed to Sano: “I told you the truth about what happened last night. You believe me, don’t you? Please don’t let them take me!”

Sano found himself torn between prudence and his desire to conduct a fair, honest investigation. He risked incurring the shogun’s wrath by showing sympathy toward anyone remotely connected with an attack on the Tokugawa, and therefore mustn’t prevent the yarite’s arrest, even if he wasn’t convinced of her guilt. Yet Sano believed that justice would be subverted unless he curtailed Hoshina’s overzealous actions. Thus, he settled on compromise.

“Arrest her, then,” he said.

Momoko let out a wail of despair. As Hayashi and Yamaga dragged her toward the door, Sano steeled himself against pity. “But if she’s hurt-or if you send her to trial without my permission-I’ll publicize that you are sabotaging my investigation because you’d rather find a scapegoat than allow me to identify the real killer.”

Hoshina stared at Sano, his eyes black with anger because Sano had not only impugned his professional honor but threatened to bring their antagonism out in the open. And the latter was a step that neither of them could take with certainty of surviving. A long moment passed; the room seemed to grow colder. Sano waited, his heart racing with fear, because he had much to lose, while Hoshina had Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s protection.

Then Hoshina reluctantly lifted his hand at the two yoriki. “Take her to jail,” he said, “but make sure no one harms her.”

As he walked out of the room with his subordinates and their prisoner, his malevolent glance backward said that Sano had scored only a temporary victory. Sano expelled his breath in a gust of revulsion for the strife that always complicated his duties. These seemed insurmountable because the Black Lotus case had severely reduced his stamina. The final disaster at the temple had comprised the worst violence he’d ever seen, a senseless carnage. His involvement made Sano feel sick, as though the spiritual disease of the Black Lotus had infected him. Sano couldn’t even draw strength from a happy domestic life, for the Black Lotus had robbed him of that, too. Lately, the thought of Reiko caused him more worry than solace.

Now Sano mustered his flagging energy. With Hoshina probably thinking up new ways to plague him, he must move fast to prevent the investigation from slipping entirely out of his control. He set out to obtain the names of Wisteria’s clients and the guests present at last night’s party, and begin looking for other suspects besides the yarite.

He stifled the fear that he’d lost control of the investigation even before he’d begun.