Free Claws of the Cat by Susan Spann Page B

lowering a sleeping child. Hiro felt a pang of regret. For a moment, the music had taken him back to Iga.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    “Did Okiya and the others hear anything?” she asked. “Mayuri said no, but I hoped…”
    “They heard no intruders,” Hiro said.
    The door whispered open. Mayuri knelt at the threshold.
    “Have you finished?” she asked.
    Father Mateo stood up. Hiro suppressed a desire to bait the woman by asking to remain. He didn’t dislike her exactly, but he never liked acceding to rude requests.
    “Have faith,” Father Mateo told Sayuri. “God will protect you and we will find the killer.”
    She nodded. “I will pray.”
    As they left the room, Hiro leaned toward Father Mateo and whispered, “You need to use the latrine.”
    “I do not.” Father Mateo blushed.
    As usual, Hiro found the reaction amusing. He had never understood the Jesuit’s shyness about discussing bodily functions.
    He raised his voice. “Mayuri, Father Mateo needs to visit the latrine.”
    The priest turned a brilliant shade of red. His mouth opened and closed like one of his beloved koi.
    Mayuri inclined her head and looked from one man to the other. “Did you say he needs to use the latrine?”
    “Urgently,” Hiro said.
    The woman and the priest exchanged a stare. Hiro didn’t mind embarrassing Father Mateo, and he knew Mayuri could not refuse the request.
    After a very long moment Mayuri nodded. “Follow me.”
    She led the men through the family room and into the narrow four-mat storeroom beyond. A hallway led off the east side of the storeroom, and at the far end of the hall a wooden staircase led to the second floor.
    Mayuri gestured to the sliding doors in the north wall of the storeroom. “The latrine is outside—the building on the left.” She paused. “You will forgive me if I do not escort you there.”
    “Of course,” Hiro said. “Thank you.”
    As he stepped across the room and opened the door, he wondered what lay beyond the sliding door in the storeroom’s western wall. Another storage room, or perhaps a private office.
    Hiro waited for Father Mateo to step onto the veranda, then followed him out and closed the door.
    Three wide steps led down to the narrow yard, where a forked gravel path connected the teahouse to a pair of outbuildings. The latrine stood about forty feet from the house on the left-hand side of the yard. Hiro had seen it from the veranda earlier.
    A second, larger building stood ahead and to the right. It had a thatched roof, wooden sides, and two entrances, one at the end of the gravel path and a slightly smaller one on the opposite end. A worn track in the grass led to the smaller door. Slatted screens covered the three narrow windows below the eaves, allowing light to enter but obscuring the interior from view. The design suggested a bathhouse, and the woodpile outside the smaller door confirmed it.
    Hiro felt a twinge of jealousy. Like most residents of Kyoto he bathed several times a week, and like most people he used the public baths. Only the very wealthy could afford a private bathhouse, and the Sakura’s looked particularly fine.
    At his side, Father Mateo hissed, “I do not have to use the latrine!”
    “Fake it.” Hiro pointed at the left-hand building. “I need at least five minutes.”
    “What are you doing?”
    “No time.” Hiro hurried down the stairs and across the yard to the bathhouse. When he reached the smaller door he glanced over his shoulder. He noted with satisfaction that Father Mateo had started toward the latrine.
    Hiro grasped the wooden handle and pulled open the swinging door. As he suspected, it led to the fire room adjacent to the larger bathing chamber. A large wood-burning stove dominated the tiny room. It was square and made from whitewashed bricks of clay, though dust and ash had darkened its sides to gray. A large iron cauldron sat atop the stove, and iron pipes ran from the cauldron to the wall, funneling steam and hot water