CHAPTER 30

Yuji refilled the teacups—a delay that, Hiro noted, gave him time to formulate an answer.

“I learned about the situation a little over a week ago,” the actor said as he set the teapot down. “Chou came to me, worried about her sister meeting men by the river in the evenings. She didn’t believe that Emi had become a prostitute—not yet—but worried she might, in order to earn the money she needed to buy a place in a teahouse.”

The story didn’t match Chou’s precisely, but Hiro accepted the differences for the moment.

Father Mateo didn’t. “Are girls required to purchase positions in a teahouse?”

“Quite the opposite,” Yuji said. “A teahouse normally pays the parents of girls who become apprentices there. Emi misunderstood how the system works, or else she lied. Speaking freely, and in confidence, I think she wanted to become a prostitute. Chou mentioned some of the teahouse owners suggested it.”

“Why would Emi make that decision?” Father Mateo asked.

“I could not tell you,” Yuji said, “but Emi didn’t want the things that other girls desire. She wanted to make decisions for herself. As one might expect from a woman’s decisions, many of them were ill-advised.”

“Did you speak with anyone else about Emi’s behavior?” Hiro asked.

“Aside from Chou?” Yuji shook his head. “Only Mother. I did not want to interfere. I did, however, tell Chou to speak with her father at once, before Emi caused us trouble with the police.”

“The police?” Father Mateo asked.

Hiro selected a third umeboshi. They tasted uncommonly good.

“Prostitutes cannot legally ply their trade on the riverbank,” Yuji said. “If the dōshin caught Emi doing so, they would arrest her. The magistrate would expose her connection to the Yutoku-za at her trial, and that would ruin our reputation as a legitimate theater troupe.”

After a pause, he added, “I am a rising star on the stage. I cannot have people whispering that my troupe allows its women to prostitute themselves by the river.”

Or that you married a prostitute’s sister, Hiro thought. Aloud, he said, “That would indeed be most unfortunate.”

Yuji gave him a grateful look. “Thank you, sir, I knew you would understand. Like samurai, we actors must avoid disgrace and public humiliation at all costs. My talent will make me a great shite. I can lead the Yutoku-za to fame. But a scandal involving my future sister”—he shook his head—“such a thing would ruin my reputation at this critical point in my career. I could end up relegated to the chorus, without a chance of securing the roles my skills deserve.”

He took a sip of tea. “Emi’s death is regrettable, but prevented a greater tragedy. The less attention it receives, the better.”

“The death of a child is never a fortunate event,” the priest said sternly.

“Even when it saves two families permanent disgrace? Prevents the financial ruin of a guild?” Yuji met the Jesuit’s stare without repentance. “I humbly apologize, but we must differ on that point.”

Hiro shifted the conversation before the priest could argue. “Do you know whether Chou discussed Emi’s actions with Satsu?”

“She did,” Yuji said. “I told her to do it, and, unlike Emi, Chou does as she’s told.”

“Are you certain?” Father Mateo asked, brow furrowed in disapproval.

“Do you ask because Emi didn’t stop meeting men by the river?” Yuji shrugged. “With respect, unruly women find ways of straying, no matter what men do.”

“One last question,” Hiro said, “and then we really must leave. If Emi’s behavior hadn’t stopped, would you have broken your betrothal to Chou?”

“I do not have that option.” Yuji’s voice held unexpected bitterness. “When Botan retires, or dies, control of the Yutoku-za will pass to the eldest eligible male in the troupe. Satsu is an outsider and not sufficiently talented to lead. I have the skills, and looks, required, but without Chou I lack the proper connections. Only a fool would surrender the chance to marry Botan’s granddaughter and inherit control of the troupe.”

“Assuming he chooses you and not another,” Father Mateo said.

Hiro hoped the Jesuit wouldn’t mention their conversation with Chou and Haru.

“There is no other candidate.” Yuji smirked. “The day I marry Chou, it is decided.”

Father Mateo opened his mouth, but Hiro cut him off. “You are certain you know nothing more of Emi’s male companions?”

Yuji shifted his gaze to Hiro. “If I did, Matsui-san, I would tell you, though I assure you we are all better off with her gone.”

Father Mateo stood up. “That is enough.” He looked at Hiro. “Time to go.”

Yuji bowed from a seated position as Hiro followed the Jesuit from the teahouse. For the first time in Hiro’s memory, Father Mateo did not bow, or say farewell, before departing.

“He killed Emi,” Father Mateo whispered as they put on their sandals and returned to the street.

“Yuji?” Hiro glanced back at the noren hanging in the teahouse entrance. “I don’t think so.”

“He did,” the priest insisted. “He wanted her dead, and he had a motive to kill her. Weren’t you listening?”

Hiro started toward the Yutoku-za. “Yuji is a pathetic, self-centered fool, but not a killer.”

“He said we were all better off with Emi dead,” the priest objected.

“I do not argue that he had a motive.” Hiro paused, remembering Yuji’s interest in the unnamed object found with Emi’s body. “But he doesn’t seem the type to soil his hands. Especially since the coin and the killing might not be related after all.”

Father Mateo looked confused. “Not related? Why do you say so?”

“What if Emi saw the samurai who extorted money from Botan?”

“He concealed his face,” the priest protested.

“Yes,” Hiro said, “but he would have removed the mask when leaving the Yutoku-za, to avoid attracting attention in the street. Emi might have seen him from the shrine, and we now know it’s possible that he could have recognized her as well.”

“The murder didn’t happen the night the samurai demanded money, or even the morning that Botan gave it to him.” Father Mateo paused and raised his head as if remembering something. “But the mask disappeared the night before she died.”

“Precisely,” Hiro said. “Do you know how much that mask would sell for?”

“Enough to prevent a samurai from killing Botan’s family, I presume. Also, Botan didn’t mention giving the mask away.”

“He wouldn’t,” Hiro said. “The shame would be too great to bear.”

“But was it stolen, or sold, or paid to the samurai with the gold?” the Jesuit asked.

“I think I know who can tell us.” Hiro paused outside the Yutoku-za. “The question is whether or not he will.”

As Hiro knocked on the door, the priest said, “Satsu may not know the mask is missing.”

“He knows,” Hiro said, “and I also think he’s the reason Botan had the mask in the first place.”

Father Mateo looked confused, but the door swung open before he could ask a question.