“So many have you to thank for protecting them from people who did them wrong,” Midori said.

Reiko had also rescued women from cruel husbands, lovers, and employers. “I’m afraid not everybody would thank me.”

She began opening the scroll containers, read a letter full of obscene curses, and winced. Evildoers had gotten their comeuppance due to her. She’d made enemies who didn’t appreciate her interfering in their affairs. She’d also felt the sting of social disapproval because she took actions unheard of for a woman. Ladies of her class were polite to her and curried her favor, but they talked about her behind her back. Samurai officials looked askance at her, even though they wouldn’t dare criticize the chamberlain’s wife.

“And I’m afraid I’ve become a target of everybody who wants something.” Reiko read aloud from another letter: “ ‘Dear Lady Reiko, I need money. Please send me 100 koban.”’

The next message was written on cheap paper in calligraphy that was very neat, the characters as square as though printed from a woodblock. As she skimmed the words, Reiko sat up straight. “Listen to this one.”

Dear Lady Reiko,

Please excuse me for imposing on you, but I need your help. My name is Lily. I am a poor widow. We met at the Hundred-Day Theater in Ryogoku a few years ago. I helped you then, and I think it’s time for you to return the favor. My little boy has been stolen. He’s only five years old. Will you please find him and bring him back to me? I’m a dancer at the Persimmon Teahouse in Nihonbashi. I beg you to come and see me there as soon as possible.

Complicated directions to the teahouse followed. Reiko said, “I remember this woman.” Lily had been a witness who’d aided Reiko’s search for an escaped murderess.

“Are you going to help her?” Midori asked.

“I do owe her a favor,” Reiko said. “And to lose a child is a terrible calamity.” She looked through the lush, pink cherry trees at Masahiro in the garden.

“Bring me the arrows, Taeko,” he called.

The little girl gathered up the arrows he’d shot, pranced up to him, and handed them over. Reiko smiled because he’d found a clever use for his admirer.

“But you’re expecting,” Midori said in concern. “You shouldn’t risk your health.”

“I’ll be healthier if I’m busy,” Reiko said. Furthermore, Lily’s plight had aroused her maternal instincts. “At least I’ll go and see Lily.” She felt the surge of energy that each new investigation, and each new chance to help someone in need, brought her. “A little trip into town shouldn’t hurt me.”

Reiko rode in her palanquin along the winding passages of Edo Castle. Her bearers carried her downhill, and mounted bodyguards accompanied her through the main gate.

A holiday atmosphere enlivened the daimyo district. Ladies in floral kimono spilled out of palanquins, returning from jaunts to temples to view the cherry blossoms. Tipsy from too much wine, they flirted with guards at the gates. In the Nihonbashi merchant district, cherry trees bloomed in pots on balconies. Shopkeepers hawked parasols printed with the pink flowers; confectioners sold cakes decorated for the season. But neither holiday cheer nor the sun-spangled day could beautify the district to which Lily’s directions led Reiko.

Blighted rows of buildings looked ready to tumble into canals that stank of raw sewage. Gulls, rats, and stray dogs foraged in trash piles. Cesspools overflowed into the narrow, twisting lanes. Smoke from too many stoves blackened the air. Haggard mothers nursed babies in doorways; children and crippled beggars swarmed around Reiko’s palanquin, begging for coins, and her escorts chased them away.

The Persimmon Teahouse occupied the ground floor of a ramshackle building. Tattered blue curtains were fastened back from posts that surrounded a raised floor on which tough-looking male customers lounged. Slatternly maids served drinks. A man beat a drum while three women danced. The dancers wore garish cotton robes; their faces were masks of white rice powder and red rouge. They postured and gesticulated in a lewd manner. The customers laughed and groped under the dancers’ skirts. Reiko climbed out of her palanquin and peered at the women. She couldn’t recognize Lily, whom she’d only met once.

The proprietor greeted Reiko’s escorts with a broad smile. “Welcome, gentlemen. Join the fun!”

“My mistress is here to see a dancer named Lily,” said Lieutenant Asukai, who was Reiko’s chief bodyguard.

Surprise showed on the proprietor’s face as he beheld Reiko: Ladies of her class didn’t frequent places such as this. “Who’s your mistress?”

“Lady Reiko, wife of the Honorable Chamberlain Sano.”

Now the proprietor looked dumbfounded by a visit from such an exalted personage. Before he could reply, one of the dancers rushed out of the teahouse.

“Merciful gods! You came!” She dropped to her knees before Reiko. “I’ve waited for nine days since I sent the letter to you. I’d given up hoping. I can’t believe you’re really here.” Lily gazed up at Reiko as if entranced by a celestial visitation. “A thousand thanks!”

“Yes, I’m here to help you,” Reiko said, moved by her gratitude. As Lily stood up, Reiko remembered her. She was perhaps forty years old, thin and gaunt under her bright robes. She had once been pretty, but the bones of her face were sharp, the skin sagging on them, her hair limp. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Lily, get back to work,” the proprietor interrupted. “You know you’re not allowed to entertain personal company.” The customers called and motioned for Lily to rejoin them.

Lieutenant Asukai rattled coins in the pouch that hung from his sash. “Our business in exchange for a moment of her time.”

The man relented. “All right,” he told Lily, “but make it short.”

As her escorts entered the teahouse, Reiko noticed a food stall across the street. “Let’s go over there.” Lily looked as if she could use a meal.

The food stall was a narrow storefront equipped with a ceramic hearth on which the cook boiled two big pots. Reiko and Lily sat on the raised floor. When their meal was served, Reiko dubiously eyed the scummy tea and the soup that contained noodles, withered bean sprouts, and gray, rancid bits of fish. But Lily wolfed down hers.

“In your letter you said your son was stolen,” Reiko said. “When did this happen?”

Lily paused between bites; tears spilled into her bowl. “Two months ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

“What is his name?”

“Jiro.”

“I have a son a bit older,” Reiko said. She and Lily smiled at each other; their common experience as mothers transcended their class differences. “In order for me to get Jiro back, first I need to find out who stole him.”

“I already know,” said Lily. “It was Lord Mori.”

“How do you know?”

“I gave Jiro to him. He was supposed to give him back. That was the deal. But he didn’t.”

There was obviously more to this case than the kidnapping it had seemed when Reiko had read the letter. “What kind of deal are you talking about?”

Lily resumed eating. Between gulps of broth, she said, “I heard that Lord Mori likes little boys. So I took Jiro to his house. Lord Mori paid me to have him for the night.”

Reiko couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “Do you mean for sex?”

“Yes.” Lily eyed Reiko as if she were daft. “What else?”

Shocked, Reiko blurted out, “You rented Jiro as a prostitute to Lord Mori?” Although she knew that child prostitution was legal and common, she’d never come face to face with an example. Now she remembered hearing of the cruelty, moral degradation, and physical pain suffered by the children at the hands of the men. “How could you do that to your own son?” Her sympathy for Lily was rapidly turning to revulsion.

“Do you think I wanted to? Do you think I liked for some man to maul my little boy? I only did it because I had no choice.”