“Not Akechi Yoshiko?” Hiro asked.
“Yes,” Tomiko said. “Do you know her? My father says she works quite fast and gets results.”
“Your father knows her?” Coincidences started lining up in Hiro’s mind.
“He hired her to collect a debt about a month ago. She brought the money quickly, but I’m not sure he would work with her again.” Tomiko paused. “Last week, I heard him talking with Basho—a merchant who sells the rice we use for sake. Basho had an injured eye and claimed Akechi-san had struck him.”
“Over a debt?” Hiro asked.
“She hit him hard enough to bruise his eye?” Father Mateo gave Hiro a look of alarm.
“That’s what he claimed,” Tomiko said. “My father didn’t like it, but I’m glad I heard him say it. I’ll feel safer hiring a guard who uses violence when necessary.”
Hiro felt a sudden need to meet Basho.
“That reminds me,” Father Mateo said, “Ana said we’re out of rice.”
Hiro said nothing. The housekeeper had made that comment days before, and Father Mateo had already purchased rice to fill their barrel.
“Does Basho sell rice for eating or just for sake?” the Jesuit asked.
A smile lit Tomiko’s face. “Both. We use the highest quality rice for our sake.”
“Will he sell to a foreigner?” Father Mateo asked. “And if so, where can we find him?”
“Basho has fifty feet of frontage at the end of the Sanjō rice market, west of Karasuma Street and east of Muromachi Road. You can’t miss it—it’s the largest shop on the block. Tell him Ginjiro sent you. You will get a better price.”
“Thank you.” Father Mateo turned to Hiro. “Shall we go?”
Hiro considered warning Tomiko not to trust Akechi Yoshiko. Unfortunately, he didn’t know if Ginjiro’s daughter had told them all she knew about the night Chikao died. If Ginjiro had hired a guard—Akechi Yoshiko or someone else—Tomiko would know. She would probably also know if the guard had killed Chikao.
If Hiro wanted to learn the truth, he couldn’t assume that anyone was an ally.
Fortunately, Hiro doubted Yoshiko presented any real threat to Ginjiro’s family. Not as long as Ginjiro kept his silence, anyway.
As Hiro stepped down into the street, a familiar balding figure approached the brewery at a rapid trot.
“Hiro-san!” Suke raised a hand in greeting.
Prison hadn’t done the monk’s aroma any favors. The pungent odor of human offal mingled with the sake fumes that rose from Suke’s robes, giving the monk the distinctive smell of a man who had bathed in a brewery’s night-soil bucket.
Hiro fought the urge to back away.
Suke grasped the shinobi’s arm. “I’m glad I found you.” He started toward the alley, dragging Hiro by the sleeve. “I need to speak with you right now.”
Hiro started to object, but Father Mateo raised a hand. “No—please—go with him. I will wait for you right here.”
Hiro scowled at the Jesuit’s amusement. They had no time to cater to Suke’s addled needs. Still, he went along with the monk. It was always faster to let Suke speak his mind.
Shadows lurked in the narrow alley, as if daylight avoided the scene of the recent crime. Hiro looked for threats but didn’t see anything out of place.
The monk led Hiro far enough from the street to ensure their privacy. They stopped just short of the place where spattered blood still rusted the ground and wall.
“Hiro-san,” Suke said, “I need your help to free Ginjiro.”
“I’m trying to find the killer,” Hiro said. “It may take time.”
“We have no time.” Suke leaned forward. “We need to free Ginjiro now.”
“What do you mean?” Hiro had a nasty suspicion he knew what the monk intended.
“You and me,” Suke whispered. “We’ll sneak him out of prison.”
“That won’t work,” Hiro said. “The dōshin will catch us and throw us into the cages too.”
“You’re right. We need a diversion.” Suke thought for a moment. “The foreign priest could make a scene outside the gates! Will he help us?”
“I don’t think so,” Hiro said. “He tends to disagree with plans that lead to our arrest.”
“No reason to get upset,” Suke said. “You’re the one who suggested we use the priest.”
Hiro opened his mouth to object but realized it wouldn’t help. “Why did the dōshin set you free?”
“They told me I’m not guilty.” Suke shook his head. “They wouldn’t even let me speak to the magistrate. Stupid fools!”
Hiro eyed the monk. “That makes you angry?”
“Of course it does!” Suke crossed his arms. “They plan to punish Ginjiro for my crime.”
“You truly believe you killed Chikao,” Hiro said.
Suke’s eyebrows threatened to launch themselves from the top of his balding head. “It isn’t a matter of what I believe—I killed him!”
“You were asleep when the murder happened,” Hiro said.
“I’m a dangerous man,” Suke replied. “Lethal, even in slumber.”
“Maybe so,” Hiro said with a sigh, “but the evidence says you’re not the killer.”
Suke’s arms fell down to his sides. “You’re sure it wasn’t me?”
Hiro gestured to the bloodstains on the wall. “Chikao didn’t die from a sleepwalker’s blow. I respect your martial prowess, but the killer continued striking the body after Chikao was dead. A sleeper would have woken up and seen the situation.”
Suke’s jaw dropped open. “That is true. This changes everything! But how did my flask end up in a killer’s hands?”