CHAPTER 50

“How could the coin return the mask?” Father Mateo asked. “That makes no sense.”

“It does to a samurai,” Hiro said. “We often take out loans and use our heirlooms as collateral. Emi couldn’t hide the mask at home. She needed somewhere safe to put it while she found a buyer. No place in Kyoto is safer than a moneylender’s storehouse.”

“But how did Yuji figure it out?” Father Mateo asked. “He didn’t even know the mask was missing. And what about Satsu? How much do you think he knew?”

“Satsu lied to us from the beginning,” Hiro said. “He already knows who killed his daughter. He may or may not have realized that Yoriki Hosokawa is the one who bribed the Yutoku-za, but he knew the coin—and Emi—were connected to the missing mask. He never wanted us to find the killer. He asked us to investigate because he hoped that we would find the mask.”

“Why not tell us that’s what he wanted?” Father Mateo asked. “Unless . . . he is involved?”

“That is for Satsu to explain.” Hiro turned to Basho. “Do you still have the mask?”

“It’s in the warehouse,” Jiro said. “I’ll get it.”

“Just a minute.” Basho raised a hand. “The loan was not repaid. The mask is mine.”

Hiro withdrew the coin from his sleeve. “I suspect this pays the debt in full.”

Basho drew back in surprise, but accepted the coin. He examined it. “This is the same golden coin I gave the girl. I recognize this mark in the side.” He looked at Hiro. “But it does not pay the debt in full. I also gave her a handful of silver.”

“For that, you must look to Jiro,” Hiro said. “I suspect he spent it in Pontochō.”

Basho looked appalled. “You kept the silver?”

“She gave it to me,” Jiro said. “For helping arrange the loan to buy her freedom.”

Hiro decided not to tell Basho the rest of the truth—that Emi had not been an entertainer after all. He saw no point in causing Jiro any further trouble.

Basho’s expression wavered between anger and confusion. “Why would you do this? The guild will expel us—both of us—for knowingly making a loan on a stolen item.”

“I didn’t know it was stolen.” Jiro’s eyes filled with tears. “She said it belonged to her. We planned to sell it and use the money to repay the loan and go to Edo. I’m sorry, Uncle. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Did you kill her?” Basho asked.

“No!” A tear spilled over Jiro’s eyelid and traced a damp line down his cheek. “I loved her. When someone killed her, I panicked. I didn’t know what to do.”

“That’s why you came to see us the morning she died,” Father Mateo said.

Jiro nodded and wiped his eyes. “Nobody knew about our plan to run away together. When she died, I panicked. At first, I thought I might have killed her while I was drunk, and just forgotten, but later—after I talked to you—I realized I would not forget a thing like that. Then I was afraid the killer would come for me as well.”

“Give us the mask,” Hiro said. “We will return it to its owners. After that, I promise you will be safe.”

Jiro looked at Basho for permission.

The merchant nodded. “Fine. But you’re working off the silver you spent, and quite a bit more besides.”

An hour later, Hiro and Father Mateo knocked at the entrance to the Yutoku-za. The Jesuit carried an oblong package wrapped to look like a bag of rice.

“No matter what happens,” Hiro whispered, “do not reveal the mask until I tell you.”

“Didn’t we come to return it?”

“We will,” Hiro said, “but only after the killer confesses.”

“Satsu killed her, didn’t he? He figured out she stole—”

The door swung open. To Hiro’s surprise, Haru stood in the entrance.

The child bowed. “Good morning. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Is your father at home?” Hiro asked. “We would like to see him.”

Before the boy could answer, Satsu appeared behind his son.

Father Mateo reached into his purse and removed a silver coin. “Haru, would you like a bowl of udon?”

The little boy’s eyes lit up as he saw the coin.

“What’s going on here?” Satsu asked.

Hiro noted the inappropriate tone, but did not object. Their visit endangered the theater troupe, and no one stood nearby to overhear the actor speaking rudely to visitors of samurai rank.

“We have come with important information,” Hiro said. “I suggest you let your son have udon while we talk inside.”

Haru gave his father a hopeful look. When Satsu nodded, Haru accepted the coin from the priest with a grin and a bow. Halfway out the door, he paused. “You are not coming with me?”

“We have already eaten,” Hiro said, to save the Jesuit the lie. “Go and enjoy it.”

“I will—and thank you.” Haru raced away.

Satsu stepped away from the door. “Please come inside.”

He led them through the entry and into the common room. To Hiro’s surprise, the room was empty.

“Haru wakes up early,” Satsu said, “but adult actors normally do not.”

Chou and Nori entered the room from the other side. Each woman carried a tray with a teapot, cups, and bowls of steaming soup and rice.

At the sight of Hiro and Father Mateo, the women lowered their trays and bowed.

Satsu gestured to the door behind them. “Take the food away. We will eat later.”

“Actually,” Hiro said, “I would prefer if the women stayed. They have a right to hear what we’ve discovered.”

Father Mateo raised a hand as if to run it through his hair, but paused and returned the hand to his side. Hiro noted the priest’s restraint. At last, his friend was learning.

Satsu gestured to the hearth. “Would you like to sit down? May we offer you tea?”

Father Mateo knelt by the hearth, but Hiro remained by the door that led to the entrance and the street. He pondered a subtle way to request Yuji’s presence. Then he remembered Satsu’s lies and decided he didn’t care. “Get Yuji.”

Satsu began to object, but Hiro raised a hand. “I want him here. Go fetch him. Send a woman, if you wish.”

Chou seemed confused. Nori’s eyes flew wide, on the edge of panic.

Satsu looked at his daughter. “Go find Yuji.”

Chou bowed and left the room. A short time later, she returned without her tray. Yuji and his mother, Rika, followed the girl into the room. Both appeared recently woken and quickly dressed.

Yuji frowned at the sight of the visitors.

Hiro gestured toward the hearth. “Sit down.”

Satsu took the host’s position, next to Father Mateo and facing the door. Nori set her tray at the side of the room and knelt behind her husband, with Chou at her side, while Yuji knelt in front of Chou.

Rika knelt beside her son—the only woman who approached the hearth.

Satsu turned to Hiro, who remained in his position near the door. “I assume you called us here because you know the name of Emi’s killer.”

“Indeed,” Hiro said, “but first, please tell me: when did you realize Emi stole the mask from the Yutoku-za?”