The Lacquer Screen: A Chinese Detective Story (Judge Dee Mystery)

by Robert Van Gulik

‘That insolent rascal was useful in so far as he reminded me of an important rule which a detector of crimes should always keep in mind. And that is that one should never let oneself be tempted to ding stubbornly to one theory. This is a clever and observant scoundrel. His reasoning about our identity was neatly done. But, once he had established his theory, he adapted every new fact to it, instead of testing whether those new facts should not make him revise his theory. He should have realized that our stick-fencing out in the open here could also mean that our position is so secure that we can indulge freely in activities that in others would raise suspicion. Well, I should be the last to criticize, though, for I made exactly the same mistake when I was investigating the gold murders in Peng-lai!’

  ‘The bastard followed us from the teahouse!’ Chiao Tai said. ‘Why did he seek us out? He wouldn't have thought he could blackmail us, would he?’

  ‘I hardly think so,’ Judge Dee replied. ‘He impresses me as a man who relies entirely on his wit and who is mortally afraid of physical violence. Well, we'll never see him again! By the way, your mentioning the teahouse reminds me of those bits of conversation we overheard on the terrace there* About that queer suicide of a silk merchant called Ko, you remember? Let's stroll over to the tribunal and hear what it is all about. It's about time for the afternoon session to start.’

  ‘Magistrate, you are on a holiday!’ Chiao Tai said reproachfully.

  ‘Yes, I am!’ Judge Dee said with a bleak smile. ‘But I must confess that I would like to see a bit more of my colleague Teng, without him knowing it. Further, I have presided over a tribunal so often that I would like to see the proceedings from the other side of the bench, for once. It'll be an instructive experience, for you also, my friend! On our way!’

  In the hall the fat manager was busy adding up the bill of four merchants who were leaving. He had wound a white cloth round his sweating brow, and was industriously clicking the beads of his abacus. But he wasn't too busy to say, as the judge passed the counter:

  ‘Behind the Temple of the War God you'll find a terrain especially reserved for physical exercise, Mr Shen.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the judge said primly, ‘but I prefer to avail myself of the facilities offered by this hospitable inn.’

  They went outside.

  The two men made slow progress, for it had grown a little cooler, and a dense crowd was about. But when they crossed the open square in front of the tribunal compound, they saw no one near the gatehouse. Apparently the session had started already and the spectators were assembled in the court hall. They passed underneath the stone archway of the gatehouse, where hung the huge bronze gong that announced the beginning of each court session. The four guards sitting on the bench eyed them indifferently.

  They hurriedly ran across the empty main courtyard and entered the shadowy hall. From far in the back they heard a monotonous voice droning a lengthy statement. The two men remained standing just inside the door, letting their eyes adjust themselves to the half darkness. Over the heads, of the crowd of spectators standing together farther down, they saw against the back wall the high bench, covered with scarlet cloth, standing on a raised dais. Behind it was enthroned Magistrate Teng, resplendent in his official robe of shimmering green brocade, and wearing the black judge's cap, its two stiffened wings standing out on either side of his head. He seemed engrossed in the document in front of him, slowly tugging at his thin goatee. Counsellor Fan stood by the side of his chair, his hands folded in his sleeves. The magistrate's bench was flanked by two lower tables where the court clerks were sitting. Behind the one on the right stood a grey-haired man, evidently the senior scribe, reading aloud a legal document. The entire back wall of the hall was covered by a dark-violet screen-curtain. In its centre the large image of a unicorn, the symbol of perspicacity, was beautifully embroidered in gold thread.

  Judge Dee went on and joined the crowd of spectators. Raising himself on tiptoe he could see four constables standing in front of the bench, carrying iron chains, clubs, hand screws and the other terrifying paraphernalia of their office. Their headman, a squat brutish-looking man with a thin ringbeard, stood somewhat apart, fingering a heavy whip. As usual everything in the tribunal was calculated to impress the public with the majesty of the law, and the awful consequences of getting involved with it. Everyone appearing there, old and young, rich and poor, and no matter whether complainant or accused, had to kneel on the bare stone floor in front of the bench, shouted at by the constables and, if the magistrate ordered so, cruelly beaten on the spot. For the fundamental rule of justice was that everyone appearing before the bench was considered guilty until he was able to prove his innocence.

  ‘We didn't miss much’ Judge Dee whispered to Chiao Tai. ‘The scribe is reading out the new constitution of some guild or trade organization, I think he is coming to the concluding paragraphs.’

  When, a little later, the scribe fell silent, the magistrate raised his head and spoke:

  ‘You have all heard now the new text of the constitution of the Guild of Metal Workers, as submitted by the said guild and amended by this court. Is there any objection?’ He waited a moment, surveying the audience. Judge Dee quickly ducked. When no one spoke up, Teng resumed: ‘This court then declares that the new constitution is approved, and shall stand as such.’

  He rapped the bench sharply with the gavel, an oblong block of hardwood significantly known as the ‘Wood that frightens the hall'.

  A rotund, middle-aged man with a large paunch stepped forward and knelt in front of the bench. He was clad in white mourning dress.

  ‘Nearer!’ the headman growled at him.

  As the man in white obediently crawled closer to the dais, Judge Dee nudged his neighbour and asked:

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘Don't you know? That's the banker Leng Chien. He is the associate of Ko Chin yuan, the old silk merchant who committed suicide last night.’

  ‘I see’ Judge Dee said. ‘Who is he in mourning for?’

  ‘Heaven, you don't know a thing, do you? He is in mourning for his younger brother, of course. The famous painter Leng Te, who died two weeks ago. It was that lingering lung disease of his that did it.’

  Judge Dee nodded and concentrated his attention on what Leng Chien was saying.

  ‘In accordance with Your Honour's instructions of this morning, we continued dragging the river for the deceased's body, as far as half a mile downstream. But we only retrieved his velvet cap. Since I am most anxious to begin winding up the affairs of the deceased on behalf of the Ko family, I take the liberty of reiterating my request made during the morning session of this court, namely that Your Honour have his demise officially registered, thus empowering me to act and sign documents on the deceased's behalf. There are a number of important deals pending which, if not immediately attended to, may cause serious financial loss to the estate.’

  Magistrate Teng frowned. He said :

  ‘The formalities must be complied with. The law states that a suicide cannot be registered unless the body has been brought forward for examination by a duly accredited coroner.’ He thought for a while, then pursued: ‘This morning you gave only a concise account of the occurrence. You shall now report what happened in detail. It is not impossible that this court may find circumstances which might motivate special consideration of the case. I am not oblivious of the fact that the late Mr Ko did have widespread financial interests, and I am willing to speed up the formalities as much as is possible within the limits of the law.’

  ‘This person’ Leng said respectfully, ‘is deeply grateful for Your Honour's kind consideration. Last night's dinner, during which the tragedy happened, was organized on the spur of the moment. One month ago Mr Ko consulted the famous soothsayer Pien Hoong about an auspicious date for beginning work on the summer villa Ko was planning to build in the southern suburb. When Mr Pien had drawn Ko's horoscope, he warned him that the fifteenth of this month, that is yesterday, would be a very dangerous date for him
. Greatly perturbed, Mr Ko pressed him for more details. But Pien could only add that the danger would originate in Ko's direct surroundings, and that it would be greatest at noon.

  ‘Mr Ko who was by nature a nervous man, started to brood over this prediction, and suffered a renewal of an old stomach ailment of his. As the fateful date drew nearer he lost his appetite, and had to take medicine regularly for relieving his internal pains. I was greatly worried about him, and all through yesterday morning kept in touch with his steward. He said that Mr Ko had been very irritable all morning, and had refused to stir from the house, even for a walk in the garden. However, in the afternoon the steward sent me a message saying that his master's temper had considerably improved. He was happy that noon, the most dangerous hour, had passed without something untoward happening to him. Mrs Ko succeeded in persuading her husband to invite a few friends for dinner that night, to distract him and cheer him up. Ko invited, besides me, Mr Pan Yoo-te, Your Honour's counsellor, and the master of the guild of silk dealers.

  ‘The dinner had been prepared in the garden pavilion of Mr Ko's residence. The pavilion stands at the farther end of the garden, on a slight elevation overlooking the river. At first Ko was in high spirits. He said jokingly that apparently even the famous soothsayer Pien Hoong sometimes made a mistake. When we were half through, however, he suddenly grew pale. He announced that he felt a severe stomach attack coming on. I said in jest that his nerves must be playing him false. He grew very angry and said that we were heartless fellows. He rose abruptly, muttering something about going over to the house to take his medicine.’

  ‘How far is the pavilion from the house? ‘Magistrate Teng interrupted.

  ‘The garden is quite large, Your Honour, but since it is planted only with shrubs, from the pavilion one can see clearly the marble terrace that runs along that side of the entire residence. It was on this moonlit terrace that, after a brief interval, we saw Ko reappear. His face was covered with blood, streaming from a wound on his forehead. Screaming and gesticulating wildly he ran down into the garden, and along the path towards the pavilion. The three of us sat there, looking at the approaching figure, speechless with consternation. Halfway down he suddenly changed his course. He left the path and ran across the grass to the marble balustrade. He stepped over it and threw himself into the river.’

  The banker paused, overcome with emotion.

  ‘What happened to the deceased while he was inside the house? ‘the magistrate asked.

  ‘Precisely!’ Judge Dee remarked to Chiao Tai. ‘That's of course the crux of the matter!’

  ‘Mrs Ko has stated,’ Leng replied, ‘that her husband came running inside their bedroom in great agitation. The bedroom is joined to the terrace by a narrow passage about ten feet long. He started upon a long tirade about die awful pain he was in, and the cruelty of his friends, who didn't show the slightest sympathy with his suffering. His wife tried to console him, then went to her own room to fetch his medicine. When she came back her husband had worked himself up into a kind of frenzy. Stamping his feet on the floor he refused to take the medicine. Suddenly he turned and rushed out to the terrace. That was the last his wife saw of him. I assume that, while running through the passage that leads to the terrace, he bumped his head against the upper part of the door. The passage is rather low. It was built after the rest of the house because Mr Ko wished to have direct access from his bedroom to the terrace. In the state of mind he was in, that unexpected shock completely unnerved him, and he decided to end his life.’

  Magistrate Teng, who thus far had been listening with an indifferent air, now sat up in his chair. Turning round he asked his counsellor:

  ‘Since you were there I assume that you examined the passage?’

  ‘I did indeed, Your Honour,’ Pan replied respectfully. ‘I didn't find any bloodstains there, either on the floor or on the beam over the terrace door.’

  ‘How high is the balustrade that runs along the river bank? ‘Teng asked the banker.

  ‘Only three feet, Your Honour,’ Leng Chien answered. ‘I often advised Mr Ko to have it made higher, because there was the danger that some day a guest who had partaken too freely of the amber liquid might fall over. On the other side of the balustrade there's a sheer drop to the river, of more than ten feet, I'd say. But the deceased said he had made it low expressly in order to be able to enjoy the view while sitting in the garden.’

  ‘How many steps lead up to the pavilion, and what kind are they? ‘Teng asked again.

  ‘Three, Your Honour, and they are made of carved marble.’

  ‘Did you see the deceased clearly when he went over into the river?’

  Leng hesitated. He replied slowly:

  ‘There are some shrubs there, and, since he had disappeared before we really knew what was happening, I…’

  Magistrate Teng leaned forward and interrupted:

  ‘What made you think that Mr Ko committed suicide?’

  ‘Good!’ Judge Dee whispered to Chiao Tai. ‘My colleague has put his finger on the sore spot!’

  ‘The old fellow jumped into the river, didn't he?’ Chiao Tai muttered. ‘And evidently not to enjoy a swim I’

  ‘Hush! Listen!’ the judge hissed.

  The banker seemed to be quite taken aback by Magistrate Teng's sudden question. He stammered:

  ‘I…that is to say, all of us…since we saw it happen before our eyes…’

  ‘You saw with your own eyes’ Magistrate Teng cut him short, ‘that Mr Ko's face was covered with blood. That he first made straight for the pavilion, then changed direction and ran towards the balustrade. Didn't it occur to you that the blood from his head wound might have got into his eyes, and that he mistook the white balustrade for the white steps of the pavilion? And that he did not step over the balustrade, but stumbled over it?’As Leng did not reply, the magistrate continued: ‘It has now become evident that the manner of Mr Ko's death has by no means been clearly established; this court provisionally opines that it was death by accident rather than suicide. Neither is this court satisfied with Mr Leng*s theory about how the deceased received the head wound. Pending clarification of those issues, the death of Mr Ko Chih-yuan cannot be registered.’

  He rapped his gavel and closed the session. When he had got up from his chair, Pan pulled the unicorn screen aside. Magistrate Teng passed through, going to the judge's private office, which is always located directly behind the court hall.

  ‘Clear the hall!’ the headman of the constables shouted at the spectators.

  Judge Dee and Chiao Tai trooped towards the entrance with the crowd. The judge said:

  ‘Teng is perfectly right, the evidence available so far could be interpreted as pointing to accident as well as to suicide. I wonder why that banker assumed straightaway that Ko committed suicide. I wonder also what actually happened to Ko when he was inside the house.’

  ‘Nice riddles for Magistrate Teng to rack his brains on!’ Chiao Tai said cheerfully. ‘Now, what about sampling the local dishes?’

  III

  In the market place, teeming with a noisy crowd, they halted in front of a small eating-house that looked rather inviting. The row of large coloured lanterns hanging from the eaves was inscribed with the grandiloquent name of the restaurant : ‘Roost of all Gourmets within the Four Seas’.

  ‘Here we can hardly go wrong!’ Judge Dee remarked smiling. He pulled aside the door curtain of clean blue cotton and was greeted by an appetizing smell of frying onions.

  They had an excellent meal of rice, roast pork and pickled vegetables. Tasting the heady local wine, they talked about their adventures in the prefectural city, and then exchanged reminiscences about the past year at home, in Peng-lai. When they left the restaurant Judge Dee had lost his preoccupied air, and they strolled back to the hostel in the best of moods. Now and then they halted in a gaily lit shopping street, looking at the local products which were praised by vociferous street vendors, or listening in to a particularly acrimonious
bout of bargaining.

  While they were walking the judge noticed that Chiao Tai had grown rather quiet. ‘What is wrong with you?’ he asked. ‘Doesn't the meal agree with you?’

  ‘We are being followed!’ Chiao Tai replied in a low voice.

  ‘Who would follow us?’ Judge Dee asked incredulously. ‘Did you see them?’

  ‘No, but I have a feeling for these things, and so far it has never failed me. Let's walk on, I'll try a few tricks to find out who is keeping an eye on us.’

  He quickened his pace and turned into a less crowded side street As soon as he was around the corner he abruptly halted, pulling the judge with him into a dark porch. They scrutinized the passers-by. But they saw no face they knew, and no one seemed to take the slightest interest in them. They resumed their walk, now choosing dark back streets where only few people were about.

  ‘It's no use,’ Chiao Tai said when they were in a narrow alley. ‘Whoever is spying on us is an old hand at the game. You'd better return to the hostel, Magistrate. Do you see the group of beggars blocking up the road ahead there, in front of that street stall? When we pass there I'll join them. You just turn that corner quickly. I'll see you in the hostel, and bring those dirty spies along for you!’