by Tony Davies
“That really depends on what my clients want. Sometimes that might mean looking for a missing person, other times it might mean preparing background reports on companies and individuals, that sort of thing. I try to take on work that I find interesting, but of course, sometimes it doesn’t always work out that way.”
“What branch of the police force were you in?”
“CID mostly, I spent some time in commercial crime and then transferred to the Serious Crimes Bureau. I wasn’t really cut out for the uniform branch.”
“If you worked in the Commercial Crime Bureau you would know Michael Foo. I went to school with him, we have been friends for many, many years. As you know he has retired now and is enjoying his new life in Australia, close to his children. I still get emails from him.”
“Yes, I know Michael. He was my boss when I first joined CCB and he was a good man and a good police officer. Please pass on my regards to him and his wife Betty when you next contact him.”
“Yes, I will and I am sure he will speak highly of you.”
Mack knew the mention of Michael’s wife at least confirmed he knew him. Fortunately, Michael was indeed a good man and had been a mentor to him until he had retired. He had lost contact with him but had no doubt he would vouch for him if Mr. Chan contacted him.
“Do you think my son’s death was an accident?”
“I am sorry Mr. Chan, I have no idea at this stage. I think the police are best placed to answer that.”
“Something isn’t right here and perhaps you can help me. Because my son had your business card should not bother you like this. You may be a curious person but unless you are being paid or there is some reason I can’t see, why as a businessman you are doing this?” His face remained passive but his eyes focused on Mack’s and from his tone it was evident to Mack that there was an inner strength that belied the frail body.
“I am working on a case at the moment and Stephen’s name was mentioned in connection with it. As I said, I have never met him so naturally my interest was aroused when he suddenly dies and the police tell he was in possession of my business card. Forgive me for intruding on you like this, I am sure it must be very difficult to talk about Stephen like this.”
“It is as if my life has ended. To have a son and for him to be taken from me so young in his life.” His voice trailed off and he walked to window and gazed off into the distance. “But please, you didn’t answer my question properly. Why was Stephen’s name mentioned to you?”
Mack’s continued to speak quietly when he said “I am afraid I can’t answer that. He wasn’t in any sort of trouble with the police as far as I am aware of. Do you know who his friends were, what he did in his spare time?”
Mr. Chan turned to face him and replied “I am not sure if I should tell you anything. You come here unannounced and start asking questions, without telling me why.”
Neither spoke for a few moments and the silence was eventually broken when Mr. Chan said “I don’t know who his friends were, we seemed to drift apart as he got older. I know he was a part-time tennis coach at the Ladies Recreation Club, although he didn’t do that for the money, he just loved tennis. He was good at all sports, lived on his own and seemed happy enough with that. We often asked him to move back here with us, but he always refused. Now, unless there is anything else I can help you with I should like to rest now.”
He moved to show Mack to the door and as he opened it he turned and said “The dead cannot come back and nothing will be gained by what you are doing. Leave us with our memories and to grieve for our son in peace.”
Mack looked at him and wondered how his own father would have reacted if he were in Mr. Chan’s position. He doubted he would have accepted it as an accident, especially if a private investigator knocked on the front door asking questions about him. There was obviously a reason for Mr. Chan not wanting him to dig into his son’s life. Still, the right thing to do now though was to leave them to grieve privately so he placed his business card on the table and thanked them for their time.
While he waited for the lift he heard the door of Mr. Chan’s apartment open and a few moments later Debbie Chan came around the corner and stood alongside him. She had not spoken previously and when she did Mack was surprised that she had an English accent
“Mr. Mackworth, my father is a proud man. There are some things you should know, can we talk downstairs?”
“Sure, let’s go get a coffee. Where did you learn to speak English?”
“Boarding school in England. My father had a good position in the government and he could afford to provide me with an education so off I went. I was twelve at the time and it seemed like a big adventure to me.”
They went to a Starbuck’s in the adjacent shopping center and Mack ordered his standard regular coffee with Lindy asking for an iced green tea. They found a table in a corner where they could talk quietly without other customers over hearing.
“I am a journalist with the Hong Kong Daily News. You probably don’t read Chinese characters, but its not as scandalous as most gweilos think. It is not all gossip and boobs. We do occasionally have some interesting articles and serious journalism does exist within the paper, even if sometimes it is lost in all the other stuff. I can see why you are curious about Stephen.”
She waited for Mack to comment and when he didn’t reply she went on “My father is a very traditional man. Family matters should remain within the family. Outsiders looking into our affairs are not welcome. Are you out to harm Stephen’s memory in any way?”
“I am not interested in causing harm to Stephen’s memory or reputation or to your family. Stephen’s death may have been an accident, but either way I have to look into it a little further, at least until I know for sure.”
“What I am about to tell you must remain confidential. You are not to tell anyone else. Can I trust you?”
‘That depends on what you are about to tell me. You have my word I will do everything I can to protect your family, but you beyond that I can’t promise anything.’
Debbie looked at him and considered his measured response. At least he had been honest with her and hadn’t simply blurted out the obvious answer that a less honest man would have. He seemed like a decent man and although appearances could be deceptive, her instincts told her she could trust him.
“You have an honest face and my father seems to think you are a honorable man otherwise he would not have even talked to you. Okay, I will tell you, Stephen was gay. My father knew, which is why they had grown apart.
“Stephen thought he was in trouble and needed help. Of course, I was only his little sister and he wouldn’t tell me what sort of trouble. I don’t know how he got your card. He said he had been told you might be able to help him so he was going to contact you, but I suppose he never got the chance.
“I don’t know the full details, but he had a boyfriend, he called him his life partner, and something had gone wrong with their relationship. He wouldn’t talk about it and when I asked who he was he wouldn’t say. He said it was better I didn’t know. I don’t know if that was because I was a journalist or just his little sister.
“Anyway, last Tuesday I met him for a drink after work and he seemed distracted, as if his mind was elsewhere. I asked him what was wrong, but he said it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Then he went missing.”
“Did he ever say how he first met his ‘partner’?”
“No, he didn’t. It might have been through work, or perhaps his tennis. I just don’t know. I do know they didn’t live together and I think that was not Stephen’s choice. He sometimes told me he wished he could lead a normal life. I don’t think he meant he wished he was straight, I took it to mean he wanted to live fulltime with someone.”
“Did he have any friends you knew of, anywhere he frequently went to, a bar or club?”
“He was a bit of a loner, not a lot of friends and I don’t know what he did in his spare time, apart from tennis and swimming. He did mention goi
ng to a club once, but then he seemed to regret saying it. I think it was called ‘La boheme’ or something. It only came up because I asked him if he had been anywhere exciting recently and then he quickly changed the subject. You must remember that Stephen was a private person. I think most gays are like that. At least the ones that haven’t come out.”
“How did you and your parents know he was gay?”
“He was always strange growing up, he never showed any interest in girls. I guess we just sensed it. We never openly talked about it, we all just kind of knew. No‐one outside the family did, but thinking about it, perhaps they sensed it too but decided not to mention it. That would be the Chinese thing to do.”
“You seem to be taking this quite well.”
“Yes and no. I have done most of my crying. I think Stephen was depressed at the end, but whether that was because of his personal life or he had got himself in trouble, I don’t know. If he drowned accidentally I would be surprised, he was a very strong swimmer and was super fit. So the journalist in me wants to know the truth, what really happened to him.”
Mack looked at her and admired her composure. Well, he told himself, the appearance of composure. The Chinese are very good at masking their emotions.
“If you are going to look into Stephen’s life I want to help you.” she said. “I can be quite resourceful and I promise if you agree to let me, I will tell you everything I find out as well.”
“So you are going to look into it as well.” Mack pondered for a moment and stroked his chin before saying “That should make it interesting. Actually, I am not sure how far I should go regarding Stephen’s death. Let me get back to you on your offer. Either way I will keep in touch with you if I may.”
Mack thought he saw a brief smile appear on her face but it quickly disappeared. Perhaps this Chinese girl wasn’t so good at hiding her emotions after all, he told himself. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and Lindy hadn’t mentioned she was married, but he didn’t want to read too much into one brief smile. She looked at him and said rather formally “Thank you and yes you may.”
Chapter thirteen
What to do next?
After her meeting with Mack Debbie returned to her cramped one bedroom apartment in Kennedy Town and reviewed the progress she had made on Andrew Weston. She hadn’t mentioned to Mack that she had already started investigating Stephen’s employer and that she was certain something was wrong with his company. She couldn’t define the word ‘wrong’, but her instincts told her that Westminster was somehow involved in her brother’s death and that Weston was not everything he appeared to be.
Most of the Chinese language papers in Hong Kong are full colour tabloids that offer little in‐depth political or social commentary. In a relatively law abiding society by western standards, there are few headline grabbing stories involving murders, bank robberies or political scandals. To attract readers the tabloids offer a diet of scantily clad women, gossip and sports news. People like to see how the ‘beautiful people’ live, what they are wearing, where they are going and newspaper publishers are happy to indulge them. Debbie liked to refer to Hong Kong as ‘Paparazzi paradise’ as there seemed to be little if any control placed over their actions.
Debbie employer, The Hong Kong Daily News, was one of the more popular tabloids. It’s coverage of political and economic events, both local and regional, was scant to say the least. Market research conducted over the previous year revealed its most widely read article was an expose of a recent Miss Hong Kong beauty pageant winner who was photographed naked in bed with a much older married property tycoon. Debbie was under no illusions as to what her paper stood for.
Debbie had started out as a financial journalist, but had found opportunities as a female in the ‘boys only’ club of finance too restrictive. She eventually decided ‘investigative’ journalism offered her better career prospects. Unfortunately, she had never managed to cultivate sufficient sources to be able to break the impregnable barriers the major hongs created around their empires. The need to remain employed had forced her to lower her sights and inevitably that had meant focusing on individuals rather than corporations. At least it was one step up from chasing celebrities, or so she told herself.
Debbie often felt the need to remind herself that she was a serious journalist and that she had written several articles on the questionable business practices of local businessmen.
One of her targets in particular had taken great offense to her allegations of fraudulent foreign exchange transactions involving one of his companies. His subsequent threats of legal action over her claims were never pursued and neither were the anonymous phone calls she received threatening her life if she continued with the investigation.
Whilst the damaging statement she had made would have been difficult to prove in a court of law, she assumed from his actions that they were nonetheless not without merit. Her only regret was that her article had been buried in the back pages of the paper and that her editor wasn’t in the least bit interested in a follow up story. She couldn’t tell if this was due to reader apathy or her editor’s fear of reprisal action.
She opened her laptop and checked her emails. Nothing of interest had come in. Andrew Weston was proving to be a difficult target and she was becoming frustrated over her lack of progress.
Debbie’s limited sources in the financial sector had told her that Westminster had a reputation for being extremely aggressive in terms of securing new business. But as she had expected, there was little in the way of hard facts to support this and her sources had no specific examples they could refer her to. Since Westminster wasn’t a listed company, it was going to be much more difficult to compile an accurate picture of its financial standing and the deals it had been involved with.
As for Weston’s private life, he certainly liked his privacy and in this regard he wasn’t alone in Hong Kong. As was to be expected, he was a member of several clubs although she had been told he rarely used their facilities. One exception was the Hong Kong Club where he was a frequent visitor at lunchtime. The club’s membership is limited to the elite of Hong Kong’s business and professional circles and she assumed he used the venue primarily for business purposes.
For a man of his standing, Weston’s social life sounded relatively tame. He seemed to drink moderately and didn’t have a penchant for fast cars and even faster women. He could occasionally be found after work hours in the Captain’s bar at the Mandarin Hotel, but he was never seen later in the evening in the more trendy and expensive watering holes in and around Central frequented by many of his peers. His firm owned the obligatory floating gin palace, which would take its occupants on a day’s junk trip to one of the outer lying islands, but there were no reports or even vague rumors of drunken orgies on the high seas.
From her sources Debbie had learnt that Weston had a reputation for being a poor loser and that he was not a man who should be crossed lightly. The problem with digging up dirt on people who don’t like to be crossed is that people are afraid of them and so choose to remain silent on the matter.
One of her sources had made a remark that he was single and had to be servicing his sexual needs somehow. He certainly didn’t need to resort to browsing the internet and a box of tissues, at least not on a regular basis. Men of his financial status could usually find acceptable alternatives.
The same contact had told her that Weston had a ‘friend’ called Tea, but this was not widely known and no-one had seen them together. It was something she might like to follow up if she was going to pursue the sexual angle, but there wasn’t more to go on other than the name.
Debbie sat and pondered which direction she should take. One possible avenue was Susan Yip, the former movie starlet and socialite who Weston had supposedly been dating. Well, dating was perhaps an exaggeration in a journalistic sense she told herself, although she had seen them together. They were holding hands in a popular Lan Kwai Fong restaurant when Debbie had been shown to an adjoining table. S
he was there to celebrate a friend’s birthday and knowing Yip had recently ended her relationship with one of Hong Kong’s leading canto‐pop singers she wondered who the good looking and expensively dressed gweilo was.
Her editor had always told her that when an opportunity for a ‘story’ presents itself she should take it. So on seeing them she had reached for mobile and had caught them both looking directly at her. They hadn’t seemed overly concerned with her taking a photo and both had just looked away.
Her editor had later identified the man as Weston and despite his company’s protest to her editor over the publication of the photograph, he hadn’t denied they were dating. Then again, he hadn’t confirmed they were either.
Debbie wondered whether they had both welcomed the publicity. After all, she told herself, you didn’t go to Lan Kwai Fong unless you wanted to be seen. Being photographed with such an eligible bachelor would at least have reminded Yip’s ex‐boyfriend what he was missing. She wasn’t sure what benefit Weston would get from it.
