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

by Robert Van Gulik

  ‘Drip-eye knows his job,’ the Corporal said impatiently. ‘Now you go to work on that young man, brother. That's your murderer! What did he look like, Drip-eye?’

  ‘Oh, just a well-dressed youngster. Bit of a tippler, I'd say, for he had red patches on his cheeks. Never seen him anywhere else.’

  Judge Dee slowly stroked his beard. He said to the Corporal:

  ‘I'd better be off and question the people in that house.’

  The Corporal guffawed. He poked the judge in the ribs and said:

  ‘You think you're still a headman, eh? Arrest the people, put them on the rack, and they'll tell you everything! What do you think the madame would do when you went there asking questions? Offer you a turn, on the house?’

  The judge bit his lip. Things were moving too fast, he was making bad mistakes. The Corporal went on seriously:

  ‘The only way to learn something there is to go with Carnation and rent a room, businesslike! Those people know her, so nobody'll get suspicious. If you can't trace your murderer, then you'll at least learn something from the wench. She knows her job, eh, Carnation? And gratis too!’

  ‘You'll have to invest a few strings of coppers,’ the girl said listlessly. ‘It's not a cheap place. And, as for me being gratis, we'll have to see about that. Here at home I go with the room, but outside work is different.’

  ‘Don't worry about that,’ the judge said. ‘When can we go there?’

  ‘After the noon meal,’ she replied. ‘Those places don't open earlier than that.’

  Judge Dee offered a cup of wine to the Corporal and the beggar. The latter set out on a long tale about some of the queer things he had seen in his career. Presently Chiao Tai came back and joined them. They had a few rounds together, then Carnation went to the kitchen to prepare the noon rice. The judge said to Chiao Tai:

  ‘This afternoon I am taking her to a nice house near the west gate.’

  ‘I thought you had better things to do than to go whoring!’ an unpleasant voice spoke up behind them. Kun-shan had come in noiselessly on his felt shoes.

  ‘I settled the affair we talked about,’ Judge Dee told him. ‘Come on, we'll take you to a restaurant. We feel we owe you a meal!’

  Kun-shan nodded and the three men left the inn together.

  In the next street they found a small eating-house. Judge Dee took a table somewhat apart from the others and ordered a large platter of fried rice and pork, salted vegetables and three jars of wine. As soon as the waiter had left, Kun-shan asked eagerly:

  ‘Did Leng Chien pay up? We'll have to hurry, for they have just arrested him, I hear.’

  Silently Judge Dee took the two drafts from his sleeve and displayed them. Kun-shan put out his hand with a suppressed cry of delight. But the judge quickly put the papers back in his sleeve. He said coldly:

  ‘Not so fast, my friend!’

  ‘Are you going back on our bargain?’ Kun-shan asked threateningly.

  ‘You cheated us, Kun-shan!’ Judge Dee snapped. ‘You made it seem that it was just a matter of milking a crooked financier. You forgot to tell us that there is a murder linked up with this affair!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Kun-shan hissed. ‘What murder?’

  ‘The so-called suicide of Mr Ko Chih-yuan!’

  ‘I know nothing about that!’ Kun-shan said angrily.

  ‘You'd better tell the truth, bastard!’ Chiao Tai barked. ‘We don't like to be made scapegoats!’

  Kun-shan opened his mouth, but checked himself when he saw the waiter approaching with the food and wine. When he had gone, Kun-shan snarled:

  ‘It's nothing but a dirty trick! Give me that draft, I tell you!’

  Judge Dee had taken up his chopsticks. He filled his bowl, took a few mouthfuls, then said calmly:

  ‘You give me that notebook, and you tell me exactly how and where you got it. Then you'll get your draft, not before.’

  Kun-shan jumped up, overturning his chair. Livid with rage, he shouted:

  ‘You'll hear from me, you dirty crook!’

  Chiao Tai grabbed his arm and pulled him back. ‘Let's take him to the inn,’ he said to the judge,’ and have a quiet talk with him, upstairs!’

  Kun-shan wrenched himself loose, cursing obscenely. Bending over to the judge, he hissed: ‘You'll regret this!’

  Chiao Tai wanted to rise, but Judge Dee said quickly:

  ‘Let him go! We can't have a brawl here!’ And, to Kun-shan:‘You know where to find us, and how to get your money!’

  ‘I certainly do!’ Kun-shan snapped. He turned round and left.

  ‘Is it wise to let that scoundrel go?’ Chiao Tai asked dubiously.

  ‘When he has calmed down,’ the judge said, ‘he'll remember his money and turn up again.’ Looking at the heaped-up platter of rice and the three wine-jars on their table, he added: ‘But what shall we do with all that?’

  ‘That's the least of your worries, magistrate!’ Chiao Tai said with a grin. He took up his chopsticks and fell to with gusto. The fried rice diminished with amazing speed.

  Judge Dee did not feel hungry. Absent-mindedly turning his wine-cup round in his hand, he reflected that the news about Mrs Teng's secret meetings had taken him so completely by surprise that he would have to be careful not to let himself be rushed into hurried action. He had made a bad blunder at the inn, and now he also began to doubt whether he had dealt with Kun-shan in the right manner. The man was dangerous, and he knew very little about him, not even where his regular hide-out was. He began to wonder uneasily whether he had taken on too much.

  Judge Dee had drunk only one cup of wine, but Chiao Tai took care of the rest. Smacking his lips, he said:

  ‘Superior quality! Now, what work is there for me this afternoon?’

  Wiping off his beard and moustache with the hot towel, the judge said:

  ‘Go to the Garrison Headquarters and try to get that information on the Corporal. I don't think he is involved in any of our problems, but I have learned one can apparently take nothing for granted here! Then you might pay a visit to the soothsayer Pien Hoong, the man who warned Ko Chili-yuan that on the fifteenth his life would be in danger. Find out whether he is a genuine soothsayer or a charlatan, and also whether he knows Kun-shan. At the same time you might make him gossip a bit about Ko. That merchant's death is a mystery that greatly intrigues me.’

  He paid the bill, and they strolled back to the Phoenix Inn.

  XI

  Carnation was waiting for the judge. She had changed into a dark-blue robe and a black silk jacket. With her hair done up in a simple chignon she did not look unattractive, despite her vulgar make-up.

  There was no one else in the taproom. She said that the others had gone upstairs for their afternoon nap.

  ‘I'll follow their example, for a while,’ Chiao Tai said. ‘That wine was rather heady! But I prefer to take my siesta down here.’

  He let himself down heavily into the old rattan armchair. Judge Dee and Carnation went out into the hot street.

  The girl walked a few paces ahead of the judge, as was customary for a prostitute taking a client with her. If a man went out with his wife she would, on the contrary, walk a few paces behind him.

  Carnation knew many short-cuts. Soon they entered a quiet street lined with prosperous-looking, middle-class houses. It seemed a quarter of retired shopkeepers. She halted before a high door, neatly lacquered black. Nothing indicated that it was a house of assignation.

  Judge Dee knocked, but when a portly lady dressed in black damask opened, it was Carnation who spoke first and asked for a room. This indicated that it had been she who suggested the address to the customer, and thus was entitled to a commission.

  Smiling, the madame let them into a small sitting-room. She said they could have the best room for the afternoon, on payment of three strings of coppers. The judge protested and, after long haggling, they agreed on two strings. The judge paid and she took them upstairs to a large and richly furnished bedroom. After she had
left, Carnation said:

  ‘This really is the best room in the house. You can be sure that the lady used this one for meeting her lover.’

  ‘We shall search it!’ Judge Dee said.

  ‘You'll have to wait a bit. Soon the woman'll be coming back with the tea. Don't forget to give her a small tip then, it's the custom.’ Seeing that Judge Dee was going to sit down at the tea-table, she said casually: ‘I don't know what you have in mind, but anyway we'd better change into bed-robes. The people here have sharp eyes. They'll get suspicious if we don't act like other guests.’

  She went to the dressing-table, took off her jacket and her robe and stepped out of her wide trousers. Judge Dee disrobed also, and put on the clean bed-robe of white gauze that was hanging ready on the lacquered clothes-rack next to the bedstead. Carnation was standing naked in front of the dressing-table, washing herself with the unconcern of members of her trade. It struck the judge that she had a shapely body. When she bent over, his eye fell on the thin white scars that ran criss-cross over her back and hips.

  ‘Who has been maltreating you? ‘he asked angrily. ‘The Corporal?’

  ‘Oh no,’ she said indifferently. ‘It's already more than a year ago. I wasn't sold to the brothel as a child, you know. I was sixteen already, and I didn't like the work, so I got a whipping now and then. But I was lucky. One day the Corporal came along and took a fancy to me. He told my owner that he wanted to buy me out. The man showed him the receipt for forty silver pieces that my father had signed when he sold me.’ She turned round and put on the bed-robe. Fastening the silk sash, she continued with a smile: ‘My owner was just starting to count up the other expenses that would have to be refunded, when the Corporal grabbed the paper from him and said: “All right, the deal is closed!” When my owner asked about the money, the Corporal just glared at him and said: “I just paid you, didn't I? Or would you call me a liar? “You should have seen the fellow's sour face! But he produced a smile and stammered, “Yes, sir, thank you, sir!” and the Corporal took me along. My owner knew that, if he complained to his guild or to the tribunal, the Corporal would come with his men and smash all his furniture. I certainly was lucky. The Corporal may be a bit short-tempered, but he's a good fellow at heart. And I don't mind those scars, they are my badge of trade, so to speak!’

  While listening to her the judge had been pulling out the drawers of the dressing-table. ‘There's nothing here,’ he said, ‘absolutely nothing.’

  ‘What did you expect?’ the girl asked, sitting down on the edge of the bedstead. ‘Everybody who comes here takes good care to leave nothing that might show their identity. They know that these houses are not averse to a bit of blackmail, at times. Your best chance is the inscriptions and pictures put up inside the bedstead here. They are signed only with pen-names, I've always heard, but, since you can read, you might find something there.’

  The woman came in with a large tray, loaded with a teapot and platters of fresh fruit and candy. Judge Dee gave her a handful of coppers, and she left with a polite smirk.

  Carnation drew the curtains aside and entered the bedstead. Judge Dee took off his cap and placed it on the tea-table. Then he stepped up into the large bedstead also, and sat down cross-legged on the spotless reed-mat. The bedstead was a small room in itself. Its back and side walls were made of carved blackwood, the panelling reaching high up to the canopy. Carnation was kneeling in front of the back wall, carefully forcing a hair-needle into a fissure of the wood.

  ‘What are you doing there?’ the judge asked curiously.

  ‘I jammed the door of the secret peephole,’ she replied.’ ‘I don't think there'll be customers for it this early in the day, but you never know. And anyway we don't want them to discover what we're up to.’

  She sat down opposite the judge and leaned back against the large pillow.

  Judge Dee reflected that he certainly was picking up much useful knowledge. Before his marriage to his First Lady he had occasionally associated with the high-class courtesans of the capital, but he was ignorant of the customs of common houses of prostitution, and the depraved tastes they catered for. He raised his head and, caressing his side-whiskers, began to study one by one the sheets inscribed with poems and pictures that had been inserted into the many square and round frames in the panelling. The bedsteads of married couples are usually decorated with inscriptions and pictures of an edifying kind, alluding to the deep meaning of the married state, and to virtuous men and women of antiquity. Here, however, they were of course of a more frivolous nature. Literary people who visit houses of assignation and brothels often amuse themselves by jotting down a few impromptu verses or making a few sketches. If those are cleverly done, the management will use them for decorating the inside of the bed. When they have faded, they are torn down and replaced by new ones. The judge read aloud a couplet, written in a flowing, scholarly hand:

  ‘Beware lest the same Gate through which you entered life,

  Becomes the Gate through which you meet untimely death.’

  He nodded and said:

  ‘Crudely expressed, but unfortunately quite true’ Then he suddenly sat up. His eye had fallen on a poem of four lines. The first couplet was written in the same unconventional, artistic hand as the inscription on the painting of the lotus flowers which he had seen in Leng Chien's office, on the wall behind the banker's chair. The second couplet was written in the very small, precise calligraphy taught to girls of good family. There was no signature. He slowly read out aloud the first couplet:

  ‘How fast the days and nights flow past, a river swift and unremitting,

  Carrying too few and too frail fallen blossoms in its hasty stream.’

  And then the second couplet, which ran:

  ‘Let them flow by, don't stay them, their petals'll wither in your hand,

  However tender. You'll spoil them for another loving couple's dream.’

  According to the old poetic custom, the man had written down a couplet, and the woman had capped it with a second. It would seem to fit. The poem with its allusions to fallen blossoms and short-lived earthly pleasures could well refer to an illicit relationship. The beggar had described Mrs Teng's lover as a well-dressed young man with red cheeks. Those red patches need not have been caused by indulging in wine, they could be the tell-tale signs of the lingering lung disease Leng Te had died from. And the young painter's predilection for depicting lotus flowers would seem to supply further proof. He said to Carnation: ‘This poem could have been written by Mrs Teng and her lover together.’

  ‘I don't quite get the meaning,’ the girl said, ‘but it sounds to me like a sad poem. Did you recognize her lover's handwriting?’

  ‘I think so. But, even if I am right, it won't help us much in finding Mrs Teng's murderer. The young man who wrote the first couplet is dead.’ He thought for a while, then went on: ‘You'd better go downstairs now and try to get that woman to give you a good description of the couple.’

  ‘You're very anxious to get rid of me, aren't you?’ the girl said curtly. ‘You'll have to bear with my company a little longer, though. We must keep up appearances.’

  ‘I am sorry!’ Judge Dee said with an apologetic smile. He had not thought that the girl was so sensitive. And she was quite right, of course. ‘I am a bit preoccupied,’ he added quickly, ‘but I like your company very much. How about bringing that tea-tray here? Then we can eat and drink a little, and talk some more.’

  Carnation silently climbed down from the bedstead and fetched the tray. When she had placed it on the bedmat between them, she poured out two cups of tea. She ate a piece of candy. Suddenly she said:

  ‘It must be a nice change for you to be in a real bed again, like the one you have at home.’

  ‘What is that?’ the judge asked, startled from his thoughts. ‘At home? You know very well that men of my profession have no home!’

  ‘Oh, stop that nonsense!’ Carnation exclaimed, annoyed. ‘You act the part fairly well, so you needn't f
ear that the Corporal or his men'll find you out. But don't think you can fool an experienced woman when you are in bed with her!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Judge Dee asked, irritated.

  She leaned over and pulled his robe down. Quickly feeling his shoulder, she said contemptuously:

  ‘Look at that smooth skin! A daily bath, and expensive ointments! And do you want me to believe that your hair got that gloss from the wind and rain? You are strong, but your skin is white and without a single scar. Those muscles of yours you got from fencing and boxing in the training-hall, with the other young gentlemen! And the cheap way you're treating me! You may think I am not worth a second look, but let me tell you that no real highwayman or vagrant crook would be sitting calmly on the bedmat with me here, daintily sipping his tea! Those men get a chance at a woman like me only once in a while; even if they were on a job they'd grab me as soon as I had lowered my trousers, and worry about the job afterwards! They can't afford to be as casual as you, with your four or five fawning wives and concubines at home who coddle you day and night, and who have expensive powder instead of stripes on their behinds I I don't know who or what you are, and I care less, but I won't be insulted by you and your haughty airs!’