Sano faced the gruesome tableau. “What if she came up here last night not to commit suicide, but to meet someone? He came; they argued. He stabbed her.” Sano turned to Yoriki Ota. “Then, before he left, he put the letter—free of blood, because he’d kept it inside his clothes—in the box.”

Ota guffawed. “That’s ridiculous. The knife came from the kitchen downstairs—the cook identified it. Minami says Peony stole things all the time, including the box. And who would want to kill that ugly whore?”

“Jan Spaen’s murderer,” Sano said. “Peony was on the island with Spaen the night he disappeared. She might have seen something.” Sano recalled her sly reference to things happening on Deshima that weren’t recorded. “If she knew who the killer is, he couldn’t let her live to tell. If he shot me, he wouldn’t have hesitated to silence Peony.”

“Any idea who this person might be?” Ota asked disdainfully.

“The merchant Urabe,” Sano said. “Peony is the only witness to his presence on the island. He’s having financial troubles, and might have killed her to avoid blackmail.” Remembering Urabe’s explanation for Peony’s grudge against him, Sano added, “He’s also a client of this house. He could have attended the party last night and sneaked up to the women’s quarters.”

Then another, more ominous possibility loomed in Sano’s mind. What if Peony had also possessed dangerous knowledge about someone in Nagasaki’s administration—Chief Ohira, another Deshima staff member, or even Governor Nagai himself? Had this person arranged a “suicide” for Sano’s benefit? Unfortunately there were many men in the bakufu capable of murdering a helpless citizen for personal gain.

Sano didn’t voice his suspicions to Ota, who might be an accomplice, if not the killer. Instead he fervently hoped that his plan for tonight would lead to the truth, so he needn’t launch an investigation of Nagasaki officialdom and court the political danger it would entail.

“What about the barbarians?” Ota said with an exaggerated sneer perhaps intended to hide worry. “Are you going to tell me they escaped Deshima and killed the whore?”

“No,” Sano said. “But there’s at least one other suspect besides Urabe who was free to move about town, and might have wanted Peony dead.”

18

十八

High in the hills above Nagasaki, evening rites had ended at the Chinese temple. In his austere room, Abbot Liu Yun knelt on the floor to meditate. The lamp’s mellow, soothing light warmed the plaster walls. Once this had been Liu Yun’s favorite time of day, when peace filled his soul and spiritual enlightenment seemed within reach. But his brother’s death had destroyed his serenity, and his faith. The past had returned to haunt him.