The dōshin marched Ren onto the sand and forced him to his knees.
“The punishment for murder is death by hanging,” the magistrate said. “Have you anything to say before I sentence you?”
Ren raised his face to the magistrate. “I didn’t intend to kill him.”
“You beat your partner to death with a sake flask.” Magistrate Ishimaki’s scowl showed no trace of mercy. “Explain to me how that shows no intention.”
“When I followed Chikao to Ginjiro’s, I intended to persuade him not to use the loan to pay off Kaoru’s debt,” Ren said. “He refused, so I took the flask from my kimono—the personal one I carry with me—intending to knock him unconscious, take back the money, and leave.
“But once I started to hit him, I couldn’t stop. I thought of all the years we suffered because of Kaoru, all that time and money wasted. I kept hitting him, over and over, and when I realized what I’d done Chikao was dead.”
Ren glanced at Hiro. “He’s right about the broken flask. I saw the monk passed out in the alley, holding Ginjiro’s flask in his hands. I thought if I broke it and left a couple of pieces behind, the police would blame Ginjiro and not look into it any further.”
“What did you do with the rest of the flask?” Hiro suspected he not only knew the answer, but had used a similar method recently himself.
“I threw the pieces in the river, along with the flask I used to … the other one I used.” Ren looked at his feet. “If he had only listened to me, instead of always putting Kaoru first.”
“No man deserves to die for loving his son,” the magistrate said, “regardless of the way that son behaves. Be grateful I allow you death by hanging. I consider the standard punishment too easy a death for the crime you committed. However, you confessed in time to save Ginjiro’s life. For that reason, I will show you mercy.”
The magistrate looked at the dōshin. “Take this man to the execution grounds and have him hanged at once.” He raised his voice. “Unlock the gates!”
The dōshin looped a rope around Ren’s hands and pulled the merchant to his feet. The crowd parted silently to allow the condemned to pass.
Hiro released his grip on Kaoru’s hand.
Chikao’s son bowed to Ginjiro. “I am sorry I accused you.” He turned and followed the dōshin through the crowd. As he promised, he would watch his father’s killer die.
Magistrate Ishimaki turned to the yoriki. “Call the next case.”
As the yoriki read a name from his scroll, Hiro took Ginjiro’s arm and turned the brewer toward the gates. Father Mateo joined them, and once again the crowd of commoners separated to let them through.
Near the gates, Tomiko broke from the crowd and threw her arms around her father’s neck. Her shoulders shook with sobs. Ginjiro winced as his daughter grabbed the painful wounds on his back and shoulders, but he put his arms around her without comment. Tears welled up in the brewer’s eyes and ran silently down his cheeks.
Hiro normally hated when people cried, but under the circumstances he didn’t begrudge these heartfelt tears.
At last Tomiko released her father and wiped her face. She bowed to Hiro and then to Father Mateo.
“I can never express my gratitude or repay the debt I owe you both,” she said. “You saved my entire family today.”
“I helped!” The crowd parted like scattering roaches before the grinning Suke. “I helped them find the killer!”
Tomiko bowed to the filthy monk. “My gratitude extends to you as well.”
“Does it extend, perhaps, as far as a flask of sake?” Suke asked.
“As many as you like,” Ginjiro said, “for a month, at least.”
Suke’s mouth gaped in wonder. “Ten thousand blessings upon your house, Ginjiro-san! The kami will reward you a thousandfold!”
“And you?” Ginjiro asked Hiro and Father Mateo. “What can I do for you? Everything I have is not enough to thank you properly, but anything you ask, I’ll gladly give.”
“I need nothing,” Hiro said, “but I’d appreciate your seeing Suke fed—and given a little sake—if a time should come that I’m not here to buy it.”
“You know I would do that anyway. Is there nothing you want for yourself?” Ginjiro turned to Father Mateo. “What about you? Could your temple use a contribution?”
Father Mateo shook his head. “My reward, like Hiro’s, is in seeing justice done.”
“Well, if you ever want a flask of Kyoto’s finest sake,” Ginjiro said, “just say the word.”
Father Mateo smiled. “I will remember.”
* * *
“There is something I don’t understand,” Father Mateo said to Hiro as they walked down Marutamachi Road toward home. “How did you know that Ren would confess his knowledge of the murder weapon?”
“I didn’t,” Hiro said, “but he mentioned the sake flask this morning, back at the Lucky Monkey, and I knew he needed the murder ‘solved’ as soon as possible. He had the money in his room and couldn’t keep it there for long because of the risk of theft. He needed to either repay the loan or purchase another brewery, but he also needed a killer punished so no one would be watching him too closely.”
“Surely Mina would ask where Ren got the money to buy a brewery?” Father Mateo asked.
“Mina intends to become a nun. She wouldn’t have noticed what Ren did thereafter.” Hiro paused to hold his breath as they passed the smoldering incense at the gates to Okazaki Shrine.
“But how did you know Yoshiko wasn’t the killer?” Father Mateo rubbed at the scar on his neck. “Or Kaoru? We never did find out for sure that Ginjiro didn’t hire a guard.”
“The money tells the tale,” Hiro said. “A sum that big will change a person’s behavior every time. Kaoru yelled at his mother about money yesterday. He wouldn’t have done that if he had taken the money from Chikao. He’d have coins in his purse, and since he didn’t consider the future, he wouldn’t have felt the need to complain right now.
“Yoshiko would have taken the money to pay off Kaoru’s debt. She wouldn’t have left it on the body and wouldn’t have continued to complain about the debt. She would have made up a story about Chikao paying her before he died.
“In the end, that left only Ren.”
* * *
A man in a carpenter’s tunic and trousers squatted by the side of the road in front of Father Mateo’s home. He stood as Hiro and the priest approached.
Nervous excitement loosened Hiro’s muscles and warmed his joints. Ozuru would not wait in the open if he intended harm, but the assassin’s presence didn’t indicate good news.
“Did we hire a carpenter?” Father Mateo asked. “He looks familiar, but I don’t remember arranging for any work.”
Hiro shook his head. “I know him, a little. He came to see me.”
“But you didn’t expect him,” Father Mateo said. It wasn’t a question.
“No,” Hiro said. “In fact, I didn’t expect to see him again at all.”
“I’ll wait for you inside.” Father Mateo nodded to Ozuru as he passed but didn’t speak to the carpenter.
As soon as the door swung shut behind the priest, Hiro said, “This looks a lot like the visit you couldn’t ever make again.”
“The situation justifies the risk,” Ozuru said. “I persuaded Hisahide that the merchant’s death, or that of the priest, would prompt the Portuguese to terminate all trade with Kyoto. Hisahide doesn’t care about the foreigners themselves, but he does care very much about his access to their firearms. Also, he doesn’t want the Portuguese to back Daimyo Miyoshi in the coming war.”
Ozuru looked up the empty street. “However, as soon as Hisahide obtains the firearms he needs, he will order the merchant killed—and the priest as well.”
“Matsunaga Hisahide would not risk the other Jesuits’ anger,” Hiro said. “Like the emperor, Hisahide supports the Christians’ efforts in Kyoto.”
“A ruse designed to destabilize the Ashikaga clan’s control of the city,” Ozuru said. “As soon as the emperor names him shogun, Matsunaga-san will either banish the priests or kill them.”
“You’re telling me to leave Kyoto now,” the shinobi said.
“Yes,” Ozuru said, “but not at once. Matsunaga-san won’t let you leave until he’s purchased all the weapons he desires to arm his men. He will need the merchant here at least until the war is over. But the moment the Miyoshi surrender, Matsunaga-san will become your enemy.”
“He is my enemy already,” Hiro said.
“Then we understand each other.” Ozuru bowed and walked away toward Okazaki Shrine.
Hiro considered the cloudless sky and wondered how long it would take the Miyoshi to attack Kyoto. If they allied with the former shogun’s brother, Ashikaga Yoshiaki, other clans might rally to their cause. However, Hiro suspected the Ashikaga heir would choose a different warlord—one whose name was feared by every daimyo in Japan.
Lord Oda Nobunaga wanted an excuse to seize the capital. Restoring the Ashikaga heir to the shogunate would give him cause and also strong support among the lesser daimyos.
Hiro also wondered, briefly, if the missing samurai’s body would be found. The shogunate would call it murder, but Hiro hoped the lack of clues would prevent an investigation. Samurai died all the time, usually by violent means. Hiro would keep his eyes open, but doubted the death would cause him any trouble.
Father Mateo emerged from the house and joined the shinobi near the street. Gato trotted out behind the priest and rubbed herself on Hiro’s legs in greeting.
“This day turned out more pleasant than expected,” Father Mateo said.
“Not really,” Hiro said. “I sense a dangerous storm approaching.”
“Are you sure?” The Jesuit scanned the sky. “I don’t see any clouds.”
“Still blowing in.” Hiro picked up the cat and stroked her fur. “But they are coming.”
Father Mateo looked nervous. “How will we know when it’s time to take cover?”
“I will tell you,” Hiro said. “For now, you’ll have to trust me.”