Claws of the Cat A Shinobi mystery

Review by Booklist Review

Make way for another mystery series set in feudal Japan. Laura Joh Rowland's Sano Ichiro series has the late-seventeenth and early-eighteenth centuries pretty well staked out, and I. J. Parker's Sugawara Akitada's beat is the eleventh century. Hiro, the ninja-sleuth in Spann's debut, lives in the sixteenth century. A samurai is murdered not just any samurai but also a police officer. The likely culprit, a young teahouse entertainer, claims she didn't kill the man. But the victim has some highly placed relatives, including his instantly dislikable policeman son, and Hiro wonders if he'll have enough time to prove the girl's innocence before the sentence is passed. Hiro is an intriguing character; unlike Ichiro and Akitada, he isn't an official investigator. However, his ostensible job, as protector to a Jesuit priest, gives him the opportunity to look into the policeman's murder (while Father Mateo, the priest, serves as a sort of beard and sidekick). Different enough from Rowland's and Parker's popular series and set in a mostly untapped period of Japanese history, the book should do well with fans of those writers.--Pitt, David Copyright 2010 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Spann matches period detail with a well-developed whodunit plot in her promising debut, the first in a new series set in 16th-century Japan. Fr. Mateo Avila de Santos, a Portuguese Jesuit missionary, and Matsui Hiro, the shinobi (or ninja) dedicated to protecting the priest's life, come to the aid of Sayuri, a female entertainer of 16, after she's accused of fatally stabbing retired general Akechi Hideyoshi in a teahouse. Sayuri, a recent Christian convert, was found beside the general's corpse with blood on her kimono. The victim's policeman son, Nobuhide, vows to execute Father Mateo and the girl if he and Hiro can't prove Sayuri's innocence within two days. Spann is especially good at showing how the Jesuit learns to ask questions indirectly to gain information the Japanese witnesses would not otherwise provide. Spann's not yet at the level of Japanese historical mystery authors I.J. Parker and Laura Joh Rowland, but she's well on her way. Agent: Sandra Bond, Bond Literary Agency. (July) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

When a Kyoto samurai is murdered at a teahouse, the victim's son (a police commander) demands quick resolution. He is ready to convict and execute Sayuri, the young entertainer found at the scene, and who happens to be a Christian convert. But her priest, Father Mateo, negotiates two days to prove her innocence. Matsui Hiro, a master shinobi, or ninja, is responsible for protecting the Portuguese Jesuit priest, and since Father Mateo feels obligated to save Sayuri, Hiro moves into detective mode. Hiro initially observes details that indicate the killing was personal, but then he learns that the teahouse owner destroyed financial records after the crime. Further, the victim was not universally loved; his family includes an estranged brother, a widow who is also a Christian convert, and a defiant samurai daughter. Time is running out for Sayuri. VERDICT While Spann demonstrates admirable attention to detail in her ninja detective debut, it's the contemporary tone of her prose that makes this intriguing 16th-century historical so accessible. Laura Joh Rowland fans will like this book for the time period, but the "buddy tone" is reminiscent of Ian Morson's "Nick Zuliani" series and Gary Corby's "Athenian Mysteries" series. (c) Copyright 2013. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

In 16th-century Japan, a ninja must solve a murder or a priest will die. Matsui Hiro, a shinobi or master ninja, has been assigned to protect the Portuguese priest Father Mateo while he lives in Kyoto and a merchant whose specialty is guns. When Sayuri, a Christian teahouse entertainer, is accused of murdering the samurai Akechi Hideyoshi, Father Mateo insists that she is innocent. Akechi's hotheaded, vengeful son Nobuhide arrives ready to kill Sayuri, but Hiro talks him into allowing them three days to prove her innocence. If they fail, both the girl and the priest will die. It's not that difficult, Hiro soon learns, to find someone who wanted Akechi dead. Akechi's brother Hidetaro, who's in love with Sayuri, is slowly paying the price to remove her from the teahouse. Hideyoshi's daughter, who's been brought up as a samurai, now inherits her father's estate, much to the disgust of Nobuhide. There is also a political angle, for warring factions are eager to take over the Shogunate, and spies abound. Indeed, Hiro reflects, he is a spy himself. As he draws on his many resources, he relies as well on the insight he gains from Father Mateo to solve the complex murder. Spann's debut provides an absorbing look at Japanese culture along with a sharp mystery. First of a planned series.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Chapter 1 Father Mateo strolled through the narrow yard, hands folded and face cast down in meditation. His shoulders bent against the predawn chill. The first two weeks of May had been warm in Kyoto, but this morning the switch to his summer kimono seemed just a bit premature. At the other end of the garden a shadow snaked over the wall and into a cherry tree with no more sound than a spring wind rustling leaves. The priest walked on, unaware. He passed the koi pond without a glance. It was still too dark to watch the fish. At the back wall of the garden the Jesuit crossed himself and knelt before a statue of a man nailed to a cross. The priest's knees sank into the dampened ground as he bowed his head in earnest prayer. The shadow moved farther up the tree. Rain-slicked leaves and slippery bark made climbing treacherous, but the shinobi did not falter. His hands and feet found purchase where none existed for other men. A branch grew over the path between the koi pond and the house. The assassin stretched his body along the limb. He moved out over the path without dislodging a single leaf. And there he waited. Minutes passed. The eastern sky purpled with dawn's approach. A fish jumped in the pond, and a delicate splash resonated through the yard. The priest's lips moved without a sound. The shinobi's black eyes glittered in the depths of his hood. As the sky turned pale Father Mateo concluded his morning prayers. He stood up and brushed stray leaves from his brown kimono, then frowned at the damp patches over his knees. When the moisture did not rub away he shrugged to himself, nodded to the statue, and turned back toward the wooden house that served as his home and church. The shinobi's breathing slowed until even his dark blue tunic ceased to move. Father Mateo passed the pond without stopping. As he stepped beneath the tree, the assassin dropped to the path with no more sound than a breaking twig and laid a slender hand on the Jesuit's shoulder. Father Mateo spun with a startled cry. The shinobi's hands flew up in defense as the priest's face tensed and then relaxed in recognition. "Hiro!" Father Mateo exclaimed. "How many times must I tell you not to do that?" Dark eyes sparkled within the shinobi's cowl. "I will stop on the day that I fail to surprise you." The Jesuit frowned. "Have you been out all night again?" Hiro pulled down the cloth that covered his mouth and pushed his hood back onto his shoulders. "I don't answer that sort of question, remember?" He reached into the pouch that hung at his side. "I brought you something." "Other than heart failure?" Father Mateo asked. Hiro raised an eyebrow in amusement and pulled out a small, dark object. It squirmed. " An presenta, " he said in Portuguese. " Um presente, " Father Mateo corrected. Hiro's Portuguese was startlingly good, considering that the shinobi had studied the language for barely eighteen months. The priest's Japanese had far more flaws, despite two years of study before his arrival and eighteen months of living in Kyoto. "Presente," Hiro repeated. The present struggled and mewed. Father Mateo stepped back. "That's a cat!" "A small one," Hiro agreed. He switched to Japanese. "Since you talk to the fish, I thought you would like it." The priest switched languages, following Hiro's lead. "Where did you find a cat?" "Abandoned by the canal. It's not a lucky color, but you claim you don't believe in luck." "God controls my fortune," Father Mateo confirmed, "but lucky or no, I can't keep a kitten. Cats make me sneeze." Hiro considered the squirming ball of fur. "What should I do? I don't want it to die." "Have you become a Buddhist overnight?" Father Mateo grinned at his own joke. "You know better than that." Hiro frowned at the kitten. "It needs a home." "I can't touch it, but it can stay. It's your cat now, if you want it." The kitten spun in Hiro's grip and clawed at his arm. He clutched it to his chest to stop its struggling. The kitten gave a muffled mew. "You're squeezing it," Father Mateo said. "It's stabbing me," Hiro retorted. "I'd say we're even." The kitten began to purr. It retracted its claws and relaxed in Hiro's hands. He looked down at the tiny bundle of marbled black and orange fur. A white patch gleamed at the kitten's throat, and the tiny cat squinted at him through greenish yellow eyes. Loud banging echoed through the air. It came from the front of the house. "Open up!" a male voice yelled. "I need the foreign priest!" "Who did you insult this time?" Hiro arched an eyebrow at the priest. Father Mateo started for the house. "No one I remember, not intentionally anyway." Only a handful of foreigners had the shogun's permission to live and work in the Japanese capital. Many samurai found even that limited presence offensive. "At least they're not Shogun Ashikaga's men, or the emperor's." Hiro followed the priest to the wooden veranda that circled the perimeter of the house. The men slipped out of their sandals and stepped up onto the smooth, unpainted wood. "How do you know that?" Father Mateo asked. Hiro followed the priest inside. "The emperor and the shogun do not knock." The room that served as Father Mateo's bedroom and study had a built-in writing alcove instead of a desk and no Western furniture at all. Only the crucifix mounted in the tokonoma, the decorative alcove that normally showcased pieces of Japanese art, hinted at the room's foreign occupant. Although the Jesuit mission had purchased the house from a Japanese family two years before, in the spring of 1563, Father Mateo lived as a Japanese and had permitted little change. Father Mateo crossed the floor, slid open the door, and stepped into the central room beyond. The open room at the center of the house had a sunken hearth and tatami mats on the floor, and it served every purpose from parlor to family room and even church. Father Mateo turned right, toward the small entry chamber at the front of the house, and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. He turned to look for Hiro. The shinobi had disappeared into his own room, which shared a wall with the priest's. Hiro couldn't let anyone see him in assassin's clothing. Moreover, a messenger would think it strange to find the household alert and about so early. Father Mateo started to run his hand through his hair again, but caught himself and stopped. He faced the swinging door at the front of the house and called, "Who's there?" His Portuguese accent often made people pause, but this time a male voice answered at once. "Mateo Ávila de Santos? You are wanted at the Sakura Teahouse." Father Mateo opened the door. "So early?" The visitor wore a simple kimono belted at the waist with a wide obi. A dagger hung at his hip but he carried no sword. His close-cropped hair was thinning on top, a situation made even more obvious by the fact that his head barely reached the Jesuit's chest. The messenger startled at the sight of the foreign priest but recovered more quickly than most. "There has been a murder. A man is dead." "Was the victim one of my students?" Father Mateo avoided the term "converts" in the company of strangers. "No. The murderer asked for you." "The murderer?" The messenger nodded. "Sayuri, an entertainer." Father Mateo stepped backward and shook his head. "That's impossible. Sayuri would never kill anyone." "She did, and a samurai at that. You'd better come quickly if you want to see her." "Is she going to commit suicide?" Father Mateo asked. "You'd better come quickly," the messenger repeated. "She hasn't got much time." Hiro emerged from his room wearing a smoke-colored silk kimono and a pair of swords. The short wakizashi hung down from his obi, while the longer katana stuck upward through the sash with its black-lacquered bamboo scabbard jutting several feet behind his back. Somehow, the shinobi had also found time to retie his long hair in a samurai's oiled topknot. Not a strand was out of place. The messenger's eyes went wide at the sight of a samurai. He dropped to the ground and laid his forehead in the dirt. "Get up," Hiro said as he reached the doorway. "Where is the Sakura Teahouse?" The messenger stood and bowed from the waist. "Honorable sir, it lies on this side of the Kamo River, on Shijo Road, east of Pontocho. It's the third house east of the bridge. You will know it by the stone dogs in the yard." Hiro scowled. "I will bring the priest. You may go." The messenger bowed twice more and hurried away. "We could have gone with him," Father Mateo protested as Hiro shut the swinging door. "Samurai do not follow commoners." Hiro looked the priest up and down. "More importantly, that's your old kimono and you need to put on your swords." "You know I don't like to wear them, and we need to hurry." "Why did I train you to use them if you won't wear them?" Hiro shook his head at the priest's stubbornness. "Nevermind. As you say, we should hurry. Change and get your swords." "Why are the swords so important?" "Two years in Japan, and you still have to ask?" The priest crossed his arms over his chest. Hiro pointed at the swinging door. "You saw the way he reacted when I appeared. Only samurai have the right to wear two swords and to order men to obey. The shogun's edict granted you the rank of a samurai, and today you must use it. If this woman is in trouble, you will need your swords to save her." "We have yours," the priest pointed out. "Mine are paid to protect you," Hiro said. "My clan and I owe nothing to a girl we do not know." And have every reason to let her die if doing so saves your life, he thought. But he didn't say that part aloud. Copyright © 2013 by Susan Spann Excerpted from Claws of the Cat: A Shinobi Mystery by Susan Spann All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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