The Trouble With Tortoises

by Evelyn James

  Bobby’s frown deepened.

  “Freddie was my cousin,” he said. “He was a good man. Didn’t know until now that he had been shot.”

  “He had a drug problem,” Chang snorted derisively. “Which is why he failed to rise to anything within my gang.”

  “The drugs never affected his work,” Bobby countered. “I owed him a lot. He looked after my old father while I was in prison. Never forgot that.”

  Bobby was working up to something, Clara sensed that with certainty. She wasn’t sure if Chang had noticed. She was ready to silence him and give Bobby thinking time if the need arose, but Chang did not speak and after a few more moments had ticked by Bobby seemed to come to a decision.

  “We should talk, Chang,” he said. “Privately.”

  Bobby made no sign that he was worried about the others knowing he might have information about Leong’s killer, or that they might think him a snitch. Then again, they were probably all deeply worried about their futures and that of their loved ones.

  “You have a sister to avenge, and I have a cousin to avenge,” Bobby continued. “I want to know who killed him.”

  Chang seemed unsure of what to make of this announcement, but he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity. He glanced at Clara and she summoned Constable Stevenson and asked him to escort Bobby Jones to the interview room.

  Once settled in the privacy of the room, Bobby seemed to relax. He lowered his large form into the flimsy chair behind the table and rested his forearms before him. He seemed to loom suddenly; a big man whose bulk could not be contained in this small room. It struck Clara in that instant how much smaller both she and Chang were compared to the man before them. She felt a fraction intimidated and imagined that was Bobby’s intention by the way he leaned forward just enough to appear threatening. Chang showed no reaction.

  “I hope you have something useful to tell me,” Chang said in a dull, almost bored voice. “I have other people to speak to.”

  “Look, it is simple,” Bobby said gruffly. “I could hardly speak freely before the others, but I think I know who killed your sister and Freddie.”

  Chang brightened a little, but he did not show undue enthusiasm, not yet at least. He was playing things cautiously.

  “I am listening,” he said.

  “A few days before it all happened, the raid, the shooting…” Bobby tailed off as he was sharply reminded of his current circumstances. “Before I tell you, what are you offering?”

  Chang did not react with anger to this hesitation, rather he gave an approving smile.

  “I won’t hurt your family,” he began. “I won’t hurt you, if you give me the true killer.”

  “What about getting me out of here?” Bobby demanded.

  “Chang cannot circumvent the law,” Clara quickly interrupted. “I shall not let him. You are a member of a criminal gang and will face whatever punishment a court deems fitting for your crimes.”

  A flash of anger crossed Bobby’s face and it was obvious he had been thinking that Chang would have him out of his cell in a heartbeat if he cooperated. Clara could not have that. She was not going to see the inspector compromised or criminals allowed to simply walk free. Not for the sake of Jao Leong.

  “Miss Fitzgerald is, unfortunately, correct,” Chang picked up the thread, though he cast Clara an annoyed look.

  “You said about a deal,” Bobby grunted. “I thought you meant working for you again.”

  His hands had closed into massive fists.

  “I could hardly trust you,” Chang said innocently. “I must assume you would betray me again, given the chance. This moment would be forgotten, I would somehow incur your resentment once more and then you would work against me again. I talked about making a deal, not about forgiving what you had done.

  “But I am not an unreasonable man, we must make an arrangement. Let us consider what that might be. It seems to me you will be in need of a good lawyer when the time comes for your trial, someone who can make sure you receive a fair sentence. I can pay for such a man, then again, I could leave you to the mercy of a lawyer appointed by the courts.”

  Bobby snorted, he did not look pleased about the arrangement, yet he was also limited in his choices and things could be a lot worse. He slowly unclenched his fists and placed his palms flat on the tabletop.

  “Is that all I am going to get?”

  “I should consider it in light of the alternatives,” Chang replied with one of his cat-like grins.

  Bobby did appear to consider this and then he nodded.

  “All right, I’ll take what I can get. My safety, the safety of my family and a good lawyer.”

  He counted off these three things on his stocky fingers. Chang’s smile broadened.

  “I am happy with that too.”

  Bobby gave a final snort, then he started to talk.

  “Before the raid, Jao fell foul of one of her own men. His name is Graham Wood, you remember him, Chang?”

  “Yes,” Chang agreed. “Wood always had ambitions above himself, and little understanding of how they might be achieved. He earned my wrath more than once for acts of utter stupidity. He had potential, that was what was most unfortunate, but he wasted it by being impulsive and reckless.”

  The description was for Clara’s benefit. Bobby knew all this.

  “Graham thought he would get on better with Jao, thought she would ensure he was promoted and given authority. She did as well, made him one of her enforcers and someone she could consult when she needed to about business. But it was not enough for him.”

  “Wood was never happy,” Chang concurred moodily. “He wanted more?”

  “He figured he could run the gang as well as Jao could,” Bobby answered simply. “Maybe he was always thinking along those lines, I don’t know. Graham was a difficult fellow to understand, but it eventually all boiled down to him wanting to be in charge. He didn’t want to be a second-in-command, he wanted to be at the top and nothing else would suffice.

  “He started plotting not long after we were here, but I did not catch wind of it until I realised that he had encouraged several of the men to throw their luck in with him. They would support him when he began his coup.”

  “And how was that going to happen?” Chang asked.

  Bobby shrugged.

  “He was going to kill Jao. He had her trust. It would have been easy. He got as far as turning a knife on her, stabbed her in the belly, but Jao wriggled out of his grasp and called for Freddie. Graham knew Jao’s escape route and used it, disappearing into the streets before Freddie could catch him. He was lucky, when you consider what the retribution would have been like.”

  Clara did not want to consider it. Chang seemed to understand fully and nodded.

  “You are suggesting he returned the night of the raid?” Chang said. “A lucky coincidence?”

  “I am saying that Graham did not go very far. He had people on the inside, people who liked all his talk and were already fed-up with Jao. He was going to try again. I am sure of it. He was watching when the police raided the house and he took his opportunity. It all backfired, however, when the police overran the house, and everyone was arrested. Now Graham has no gang to lead.”

  Chang was thoughtful, but Clara was uncertain – could someone have been watching and waiting when the police raided the house? Might that person have been prepared to take a chance to deal with Jao once and for all? It was certainly possible, but Bobby might also be saying all this to help himself.

  “I am curious, Bobby, if you knew Wood was plotting against Jao, why did you do nothing?” Chang asked.

  Bobby shrugged again.

  “You can figure that one out. Jao was doing no more for me than you did. I owed her nothing,” Bobby paused. “Graham must have killed Freddie. He murdered my cousin. I shan’t forget that.”

  “Hmm,” Chang pushed back his chair. “I don’t suppose you know where Graham is now? Was he arrested with the others?”

  “No, he scar
pered again. Guess he used the escape route out the upstairs window. It has to have been him who killed Jao.”

  Chang rose and Clara followed his lead, they were done, and they were leaving.

  “Wait, Chang, I want your word of honour on our deal!” Bobby demanded, slapping a hand on the table.

  Chang stopped, turned. His coldness had returned.

  “You have my word, Bobby. You have my word.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you believe him?” Clara asked as she stood with Chang outside the police station.

  Chang was donning a pair of handsome leather gloves to protect his hands against the cold.

  “I never believe anyone who wants to get into my good books,” Chang said lightly. “Why? Don’t you believe him?”

  “When I saw Jao a few days before she was killed. She told me she had dealt with her attacker. Her implication was that he was dead.”

  “Hm,” Chang said thoughtfully. “That need not be true. If someone attacked me, I would make it clear that I had dealt with them, even if that was not the case.”

  “But people would know if Graham was alive and well, that she lied.”

  “She did not tell you the name of her assailant,” Chang pointed out. “And only a very stupid man would go about bragging that he had stabbed someone like Jao while she was still very much alive. He could never know who might be looking to get into Jao’s good graces, who might owe her a favour, or be looking to have her ignore one of their misdeeds. Graham would make himself an easy target for every criminal looking to keep on Jao’s good side if he said what he had done.”

  Clara nodded at this logic.

  “On the other hand, if she had been slain as he planned, he would have been quick to declare his actions.”

  “Exactly,” Chang said, having now finished with his gloves, which he had fussed over with surprising pedantry, he adjusted his scarf. “That isn’t to say I believe what Bobby has told me. He might be correct, or he might have thrown me a bone.”

  “Well, as Mr Wood was not among the men arrested, or among the corpses, he was either one of the lucky ones who escaped the raid or he did leave the gang before it, possibly because he stabbed Jao,” Clara observed.

  “Or he left for another reason,” Chang shrugged. “Bobby either knows Graham attacked Jao and got away with his life, or he is making a wild guess to distract me and earn himself some favour.”

  “It is a bit far-fetched, isn’t it, to suppose Graham was lurking about ready to try and assassinate Jao when the opportunity presented itself?”

  They had started to walk down the road. Chang had suggested they warm up over a cup of tea and discuss matters further. Clara had been reluctant, but it was better to have him talking and thinking about Graham Wood than it was to have him thinking about revenge on Inspector Park-Coombs.

  “I would do it,” Chang answered her question. “I would see it as my only option after the failure of my first attack. Jao would seek revenge on her assailant, on his family and anyone connected to him. His life was in peril as long as she lived. He would be trapped living in hiding, fearing anyone seeing him and reporting where he was. He could not work or gain any help from anyone. Had Graham not already betrayed me, he might have sought me out, offered to work for me to gain protection.

  “No, ultimately, Graham painted himself into a corner when he went for Jao. He either had to succeed or die, and since he achieved neither of those outcomes on that first effort, it would be logical for him to try again.”

  Clara endeavoured to get her head around this strange logic. She had to admit she was still adapting to the criminal way of thinking. Maybe she was too law abiding to understand all this.

  They arrived at a tea shop and Chang opened the door for Clara, displaying a gentlemanly charm she did not know he had in him. They found a table in a corner, away from the other customers and ordered tea and cakes. Chang informed Clara he would pay for them.

  “You are starting to worry me,” Clara told him.

  Chang raised his eyebrows.

  “How?”

  “You are being too nice.”

  Chang grinned and for once there was nothing to it except genuine amusement. There was no slyness, no cunning, no malice. It was an honest smile.

  “I can be nice, occasionally, and you forget, I do like you, Clara. Even if we are enemies.”

  “For the moment we are allies,” Clara pointed out. “We have the same goal, to find who killed Jao.”

  “Ah, but not exactly the same goal,” Chang corrected her. “You wish to prove the police force innocent. I merely wish to know who to take my revenge out on.”

  “You know, revenge is destructive not only to the person it is meted out on, but on the person who undertakes it.”

  Chang’s smile had faded.

  “I don’t deal in philosophy, Clara, and I won’t be dissuaded. I live in a world where I make my own justice, never forget that.”

  Clara fell silent for the time being. Their tea and cakes arrived.

  “Have you ever wondered how they make the icing on these buns so pink?” Chang pointed to a pale cake decorated with vivid pink.

  “My only concern is that it is edible,” Clara said, accepting Chang’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Around sixty or seventy years ago, it was not uncommon for bakers to use arsenic to achieve a deep green colour on cake decorations.”

  Chang laughed in astonishment.

  “That is absurd!”

  “So you would think, but it is utterly true and there were deaths as a result.”

  “I should have known you would be aware of stories of poisoned cake,” Chang muttered in amusement. “I would be troubled by your knowledge if you were not such a pleasant person.”

  Clara took that as a compliment. She took a sip of tea and felt its welcome warmth filling her, taking off the chill from her bones.

  “Oh, it is snowing,” Chang remarked.

  Clara turned her head right and saw that he was correct. Large fluffy flakes of snow were drifting down to the ground and forming a thin white layer, there was a look to the sky that suggested it could keep this up for a while. It was lucky that Captain Laker had arrived in town when he did, else he might not have been able to see the ruts in the road left by the army lorry, and so his calculations would have been even harder to make.

  “How are we going to find Graham Wood?” Clara turned from the snow.

  She had wrapped her hands around her teacup, the whiteness outside making her shiver even though the tearoom was pleasantly warm.

  “Honestly, I am not sure at the moment. He has dealt with his immediate problem, but he can hardly take over a gang that no longer exists,” Chang watched the steam rising from his cup. “If I was him, I would lie low for a while.”

  “Tell me about Graham,” Clara said. “Maybe there will be some clue in his habits as to where he might have gone.”

  Chang did not look convinced, but he cooperated.

  “I employed Graham similar to Jao, someone who goes around and makes sure people do what I have told them to do.”

  “I get the picture,” Clara assured him.

  “I own a nightclub. It is a front for various illegal activities. Graham, more often than not, manned the door, made sure only the right people came in. He seemed settled in his work.”

  “What does that mean?” Clara asked.

  “It means I did not expect him to betray me, run off with my sister. I suppose I didn’t know him as well as I thought.”

  “What do you know about Graham as a person?” Clara pressed.

  Chang paused for a moment. He had barely touched his tea and it seemed he was using it to warm his hands rather than to serve as a drink. He had mentioned before his dislike for English tea, but there were limited options for warm drinks in a Brighton tearoom.

  “Graham is pushing fifty, always been the sort of burly man people employ to do their dirty work, not a thinker, but a doer. He is intimidating, rather lik
e Bobby, but with none of the guile. I actually considered him quite trustworthy, which raises doubt about my ability to judge a man’s character.”

  “We all make errors,” Clara said. “Does he have a family?”

  “His wife is dead, killed by a drug overdose, I am sorry to say. Not anything of my doing, I might add. I don’t deal in the drugs she died from.”

  Clara did not point out that hardly made Chang a saint, but if it made him feel a little better to think he was not responsible for the many overdoses that happened daily in the country…

  “He has two children, a son and a daughter. Son is a little bit backward, something of an innocent. I arranged for him to work in the garage I own as an apprentice. He sweeps the floor more than look at the cars.”

  “I assume he is not working there now?”

  Chang hesitated.

  “You know Clara, I don’t actually know. It would seem bizarre if he was, but stranger things have happened. No, surely his father would have removed him the moment he switched sides,” Chang frowned, eyes drifting to the falling snow outside, now coming down so thickly it was coating the road and pavement like white icing. “I shall need to investigate that.”

  “Could the son lead us to Graham?” Clara mused aloud. “But if Graham cared that much about him, why would he leave him working at your garage? No, seems unlikely, if he is still there, that he could be used to lure Graham out.”

  “Still, a lead is a lead,” Chang replied. “Would you not say?”

  Clara did not answer that.

  “What about the daughter?”

  “Married to a coalman, lives a very ordinary and law-abiding life, as far as I know. I think she took her mother’s death badly, saw it as a consequence of her father’s line of work.”

  “That is understandable,” Clara nodded. “If Graham needed a safe place to hide for a while, where better than the home of his daughter who is removed from the world of crime?”

  “True,” Chang agreed. “That is good thinking. Graham will have limited options otherwise. His daughter lives in London, I can use my people to track her down.”

  “Peacefully?” Clara queried.