A woman hurried in. She was small and fragile, in her thirties but with hair streaked with gray and soft skin lined by hardship. “Lady Reiko!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful to see you again.”

Reiko saw as much pain as pleasure in her smile. She regretted the bad memories that the sight of her had surely revived in the woman.

“I’m sorry to arrive without warning. I hope I’m not causing you too much trouble.”

“None at all,” the woman said. She knelt and bowed to Lieutenant Asukai. “May I offer you both some refreshments?”

“No, thank you, we’ve already eaten,” Reiko said in customary, polite response.

“Oh, but you must have something. And I must fetch my husband.”

“I wouldn’t want to take him away from his work.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll want to see you.”

She summoned servants, who spread a lavish repast of tea, cakes, and wine before Reiko and Lieutenant Asukai. Reiko was moved yet shamed by the generosity that she felt she’d done little to deserve. After they’d eaten, the barber joined them.

“Greetings!” His voice was hearty, his face a likeable blend of intelligence and good nature. He smelled of the camellia oil he used to dress his customers’ hair. “It’s been a long time since we last met. I hope you’re well?” His gaze noted her thickened figure. “Shall I wish you congratulations?”

Reiko saw memory dim his eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”

The sight of a pregnant woman must forever cause him pain. The sad shadow of Akiko darkened the room. Her baby had died with her; she would never give her parents grandchildren. Everyone looked at the altar that enshrined her favorite doll.

“It is we who should thank you, Lady Reiko,” the barber said. His wife nodded. “You brought our daughter’s killer to justice when no one else would.”

The police had given Akiko’s murder scant attention because they were busy helping the army hunt fugitive rebels. After a few cursory inquiries, they’d concluded that Akiko had been killed by a stranger passing through the neighborhood. Her parents, unsatisfied, had written to Reiko.

Upon questioning folk in the neighborhood, she’d learned that a certain young man had been seen near the canal the night Akiko died. He was a clerk named Goro, employed by her father; he had a reputation as a bully and womanizer. At first the other workers at the barbershop had been too afraid of Goro to speak against him, but Reiko had convinced them that if they did, they wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. They’d told her he had bragged that he’d taken advantage of Akiko. Reiko and her guards had taken him aside for a little talk.

Cornered, he’d claimed that the girl had been his willing partner in sex. He’d claimed he hadn’t known she was pregnant and hadn’t killed her. Reiko hadn’t believed him; rather, she’d suspected he’d raped Akiko, and when she’d told him she was expecting his illegitimate child, he’d wanted to be rid of her, Reiko had convinced Magistrate Ueda to charge Goro with murder. During his trial, Goro had broken down and confessed that he’d killed Akiko because she’d threatened to tell her parents what he’d done to her and he didn’t want to lose his job.

Now Akiko’s father said, “After Goro was convicted, I promised that I would do anything I could to repay you. If you ever need my help, all you have to do is ask.”

“I need your help now. That’s why I’m here,” Reiko said. “Perhaps you’ve heard that Lord Mori has been murdered, and I am the chief suspect.”

The couple exclaimed in astonishment: The news hadn’t yet trickled down the social scale to them. The barber said, “But of course you’re innocent.”

His wife said, “No one who knows you could think you would ever do such a thing.”

Their faith in her moved Reiko, especially since friends of her own social class had abandoned her and she’d lost faith in herself. Tears she’d kept under control threatened to flow. She said, “I’m trying to find out who killed Lord Mori and framed me. It has to be someone who wanted to hurt me or my husband or both of us.”

“It can’t be Goro. He’s dead,” the barber said. The clerk had been executed soon after his trial.

“I was thinking of his family,” Reiko said.

As soon as Magistrate Ueda had pronounced Goro guilty, his parents had exploded into loud, hysterical rage. His mother had shouted at Reiko, “My son is innocent! You hounded him into confessing! May the gods strike you down and your spirit be reborn into a life of misery!” Both parents had been dragged from the court, still cursing Reiko.

“Where are they now?” Reiko asked.

“They moved away from the district,” said the barber.

“Their son’s disgrace was too much for them,” his wife clarified. Her expression showed pity. “They were shunned by everyone in the neighborhood.”

Reiko admired her generous spirit that had sympathy to spare for the suffering of their daughter’s murderer’s kin. “Can you tell me where they went?”

The barber shook his head. “They left in the night. No one saw them go. They didn’t even tell the neighborhood headman where they were moving.”

As she fought disappointment, Reiko said, “If you hear anything about where they might be, will you let me know immediately?”

“Of course,” the barber said.

Reiko thanked the couple for their kindness. They accompanied her and Lieutenant Asukai to the door, where the wife said, “I’ll chant prayers for good luck for you, Lady Reiko.”

“I hope the gods listen to her,” Asukai said as he walked Reiko down the path. “What do you want to do now?”

“Look for Goro’s family. Maybe the neighbors have heard news of them.”

Asukai’s expression was dubious, skeptical. “They certainly had a grudge against you, but I can’t see them as capable of killing Lord Mori or setting you up. They’re just simple, merchant-class folk. How could they have gotten close enough to a daimyo to kill him, never mind think up a scheme to get you in trouble for it?”

“I’ve already thought of that.”

“Then how can you believe they’re responsible for what happened to you? Why spend any more time on them?”

“Because there are connections and patterns that are invisible to us.

And because I remember the last thing Goro’s mother said to me when she cursed me.“

The words spoken two years ago echoed in Reiko’s mind, a threatening prophesy of the future now about to come true. “ ‘Someday you’ll find out what it’s like to be punished for something you didn’t do.”“

A walled enclave within Sano’s compound held valuables that included money, government records, and spare household furnishings. “I want to look at those weapons that Hirata-san found,” Sano told the guard who let him and Marume and Fukida through the gate. The weapons were the only material clue found during his entire investigation. He hoped a close examination of them would yield important facts. “Where are they?”

Square, identical storehouses, built with thick plaster walls, tile roofs, and iron doors to protect their contents from fire, stood in rows like a small, deserted city. “Here,” the guard said, opening the door of one storehouse.

Marume and Fukida entered and opened the shutters. Following them inside, Sano breathed dank air that smelled of metal and grease. He peered through the dimness at the thirty wooden crates on the floor.

“I need more light than this,” he said.

The detectives helped him move the crates onto the pavement outside. Fortunately the rain had paused. An eerie, silver glow lit the early evening sky. The air was still warm, and Sano and his men sweated while working. When they had the crates lined up between the storehouses, they removed the lids.

Fukida picked up and read a paper that lay atop the arquebuses inside one crate. “Detective Arai did an inventory of the guns. There are twenty in each crate, six hundred total. All appear to be in good working order.”