Free Shinju by Laura Joh Rowland Page A

glance toward a veranda at one side of the garden.
    Now that he stood face to face with her, Sano could see that shewas no more than twelve or thirteen years old. She had plump cheeks, full lips, and a round chin. Eyes that must normally sparkle with merriment now regarded him solemnly.
    â€œCan I trust you?” she asked.
    Surprised by her ungirlish boldness, Sano answered her as he might have done one of his pupils. “I can’t tell you who to trust and who not to trust,” he said. “Miss … Midori?”
    Apparently his honesty satisfied her, and he’d guessed right about her name. She nodded, threw another glance at the veranda, and whispered, “Yukiko didn’t kill herself!”
    â€œBut your mother thinks she did.” Sano fought down a surge of excitement, striving for objectivity. “And so does your brother.” And the magistrate, and everyone else but Dr. Ito and me.
    Midori stamped her foot, small fists clenched at her sides. “She’s not my mother!” she cried. “Don’t ever call her that.” Her voice rose, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Then, in a whisper nearly as loud, she hurried on. “She’s my father’s second wife. My mother—Yukiko’s mother—was his concubine. She’s dead. And I don’t care what anyone thinks. Yukiko would never kill herself. Especially not that way, with a man. She didn’t know any men. At least, not …” Blushing, she lowered her head so that her silky hair curtained her face.
    Not as a lover, Sano thought, completing the sentence Midori was too embarrassed to finish.
    â€œHow do you know?” he asked. He reminded himself that she was a child, with a child’s unwillingness to believe the worst about a beloved older sister.
    Something of his skepticism must have entered his voice, because she flung her head up, eyes blazing. “I know!” she stormed. “I can prove it.” She yanked on his sleeve so hard he thought the fabric would tear. “Someone killed Yukiko. Please believe me. You’ve got to—”
    â€œMidori! What do you think you’re doing?”
    Sano jumped at the sound of the harsh voice. Turning, he sawLady Niu standing on the veranda, the open door framing her. Fury distorted her beautiful face. Beside Sano, Midori let out a little moan. The three of them stood in frozen silence for a moment.
    Then Lady Niu said, “Go to your room at once, Midori.” A deadly calm replaced the anger in her voice, but her expression did not alter.
    Without looking at Sano, Midori scuttled off, head ducked, down a path leading out of the garden.
    â€œAs for you,
Yoriki
Sano,” Lady Niu continued, “I advise you to leave at once. And never to return.”
    Sano heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw his guard, looking angry and resentful.
    â€œTake him away,” Lady Niu told the guard.
    Sano let the guard escort him to the gate, feeling relieved and very foolish. How ironic if, after all the other risks he’d taken, he had ruined his career to indulge a fanciful child!
    Once safely back on the street, he regretted not hearing Midori’s tale. It might have provided him with the evidence to convince Ogyu that more investigation was necessary. Maybe he would risk trying to question Midori again later, after he’d seen Noriyoshi’s family.

M idori ran through the inner gate and garden, up the steps to the door of the section of the women’s quarters that housed her bedchamber. But instead of going inside, she paused, shivering in the cold wind. Then, making an impulsive decision, she stepped out of her wooden-soled shoes. Carrying them by their thongs, she ran lightly along the veranda in her split-toed socks, past the row of doors beneath the roof’s overhanging eaves.
    An open window brought her up short. Through it she could hear the maids chattering as they swept the inner