Second Sister

by Chan Ho-Kei

  Nga-Yee was so startled she almost dropped the camera. Hastily but gingerly she returned it to the coffee table.

  “The post is wrong about his marriage, though,” N went on, leaning against the desk. “It claims that he went to jail to calm things down—he loved his wife so much he didn’t want to put her through any more trouble. That’s all bullshit. Ever since Shiu got out, he’s been hiding at home rather than going to work at the shop, because he’s afraid people will give him a hard time. No guts. His wife is left to take on the whole burden of supporting the family, and not only is he completely ungrateful, he even complained to me, someone he’d just met, that she wouldn’t allow him to buy a camera.”

  “So why is half of it false?” asked Nga-Yee. “Whoever wrote this must have known Shiu, to have written the true portion.”

  “Have you looked closely at it? Don’t you think it reads a particular way?”

  “What way?”

  “Like a lawyer defending a client in court.”

  Nga-Yee stared.

  “Emphasizing the good, hiding the bad. Showing the client in the best possible light, while working hard to distort subjective things like the state of his marriage. After all, if Mrs. Shiu says, ‘We’re a loving couple,’ how would the other side prove otherwise? That’s pretty much something you’re expected to say when you testify in court. I suspect that the poster is connected to Shiu’s defense lawyer in some way, although the lawyer himself wouldn’t be foolish enough to get directly involved—it wouldn’t help his client.” N pulled a sheet of paper from the pile on his desk. “That’s Martin Tong. He’s made a bit of a name for himself in the profession. Organizes community talks on legal advice and does pro bono work. He’s not going to put his glossy reputation at risk by stooping to dirty tricks. That would hurt his brand.”

  “Even if he didn’t do it himself, he might still be involved?”

  “You’re right, but it isn’t easy to cross swords with a lawyer.” N shrugged. “I’ll keep looking into that, but there’s another line of inquiry I’m more eager to follow.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your sister.”

  A chill went through Nga-Yee.

  “Don’t you want to go there, Miss Au?” said N indifferently. “From the evidence we have, it’s most likely that this post was written to hurt your sister, either because of a personal grudge or because the writer genuinely believed she’d wronged Shiu Tak-Ping and wanted to get justice for him. I’ll need to know everything there is to know about Au Siu-Man: what circles she moved in, her private life, her thoughts, and any enemies she might have had.”

  “Siu-Man was only fifteen. What enemies could she have had?”

  “You’re far too naive,” N sneered. “Girls of fourteen or fifteen these days have far more secrets than us grown-ups, and their social networks are incredibly complex. With social media and instant messaging, it’s easy for kids in their early teens to enter the adult world. In the old days, working girls were dependent on their pimps, but these days they have apps for finding clients. Some of these girls don’t know what they’re getting into—they imagine that being an escort means going out with someone in public and holding their hand. Then they get tricked into bed, maybe photographed or filmed, which makes them a target for blackmail. They can’t ask for help or they might get arrested for prostitution, so they put up with it. All the while, their families assume that any strange behavior is teenage angst. The post said that your sister drank, took drugs, and sold her body. Can you look me in the eye and say for certain that Siu-Man wasn’t that kind of girl?”

  Nga-Yee met his gaze and started to speak, but then she remembered how only a handful of Siu-Man’s classmates had expressed their condolences, and she couldn’t get the words out. It was only after Siu-Man’s death that she’d realized she hadn’t understood her sister all that well. She often got back late because of her library shifts, and she had never wondered whether Siu-Man came straight home after school or, on the few occasions she’d returned later, if she’d actually been studying at the library as she claimed. Had Siu-Man gotten into bad company while Nga-Yee wasn’t paying attention? Were there secrets she’d felt she couldn’t share with her sister? Could she have used this window of time to carry out illicit activities for pocket money?

  When Siu-Man died, a seed of doubt had been planted in Nga-Yee’s heart. Without her noticing, this had now grown into a poison vine wrapping itself around her soul, devouring her faith.

  Seeing Nga-Yee pull back, N didn’t press the issue, but said in a softer tone, “Miss Au, if you want to find the person pulling the strings, you’ll have to dig into your sister’s past. There may be some things you don’t want to discover. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” said Nga-Yee without hesitation. “No matter what, I want to find the person responsible for Siu-Man’s death.”

  “All right, then I’ll need you to go home and see if your sister kept a diary or any kind of notebook. Oh, did she have a computer?”

  “No, just a smartphone.”

  “I’ll need to see that. People have their phones on them all the time. You can understand a person completely just by looking at their phone.”

  “Don’t you want to come and have a look at our place?”

  “I’ve already spent two days tailing Shiu Tak-Ping, Miss Au. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m not your personal assistant.” N went back to his desk and sat in his office chair. “Call this number if you need to get hold of me, though I can’t promise I’ll answer. Leave a message if it’s important, and I’ll call you back when I have time.”

  He handed her a piece of notepaper with eight digits scrawled in pencil.

  As soon as she took the number, he gestured at the door to indicate their meeting was over. Nga-Yee still had more questions, but she’d seen enough of N by now to know that asking them would get her nothing but another tongue-lashing. On the way home, she mused that he might speak harshly, but he hadn’t tried to stonewall her with “the investigation is ongoing.” Instead, he’d discussed the case seriously with her. Mr. Mok was absolutely right—he was a real eccentric.

  I guess I have to trust him, she said to herself, looking at the note in her hand.

  In order to save on travel, Nga-Yee took the tram, ferry, and bus rather than the more expensive MTR. These days, she was allowing herself the subway only on her commute to work, when she needed to be on time. It didn’t matter if it took her a little longer to get home. It was after ten by the time she arrived back at Wun Wah House.

  She turned on the lights and, not even stopping to change her clothes, walked around the bookshelf that divided Siu-Man’s “room” from the rest of the apartment. She hadn’t touched Siu-Man’s things since her death, so everything was exactly the way it had been: a little desk, a loft bed above a bookcase and a wardrobe. As a child, Nga-Yee had sorted through her late father’s possessions with her mother; then, when her mom died, she’d wept while packing away her clothes. Yet when it came to Siu-Man, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do the same. Siu-Man’s form teacher, Miss Yuen, had phoned at the end of May to say that Siu-Man had left some books in her locker, would Nga-Yee come by to pick them up? Nga-Yee had said she was too busy, and she kept putting it off, thinking that seeing Siu-Man’s things might be too much for her to handle.

  Now Nga-Yee went through the desk drawers and bookcase, but there was nothing like a diary, just makeup, accessories, and a couple of kawaii stationery packs and washi tape. The shelves had only her homework books and a few fashion magazines, and her schoolbag contained only textbooks. Nga-Yee went through every inch of the wardrobe, but there was nothing there either.

  Why doesn’t she even have a planner? Nga-Yee wondered, being the sort of person who wrote everything down on paper, before it hit her. “Of course, the phone!”

  Which led to the next problem: the phone was nowhere to be found.

  Nga-Yee clearly remembered that Siu-Man always
kept her bright red cell phone at the top right corner of her desk, where the charger was. The charger was empty. She rummaged through the bedding, but it wasn’t there.

  Thinking more carefully, Nga-Yee realized that she hadn’t seen the phone since Siu-Man’s death.

  Reaching for her own phone, Nga-Yee dialed her sister’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. Of course, after more than a month, the battery must have run out.

  Unless … the phone went out of the window with her …

  Nga-Yee had so far resisted thinking about the actual moment of Siu-Man’s suicide, but now she had to consider this possibility. Yet no, she realized—it would have landed near her and been found by the police, who’d surely have returned it to Nga-Yee.

  Where was it, then? Could it be at school?

  She reached for the note and dialed the eight digits.

  “You have reached the voice mailbox for 61448651. Please leave a message after the tone,” said a robotic voice.

  “Hello, hello, it’s Au Nga-Yee. I did what you said, but I couldn’t find a diary, and the phone’s missing too. Um … Maybe you should come see for yourself?” she stammered, and hung up.

  She searched again, just to be sure. Siu-Man’s wallet and keys were there; it was just her phone that was missing.

  Nga-Yee slept even more badly than usual. She kept worrying about the cell phone, and N never called back. When her alarm clock went off the next morning, she felt as if she’d been up all night. She went to work as usual, but kept making mistakes checking books in and out. Finally, to stop the tide of complaints, the manager took her off the counter and put her on shelving instead.

  She called N after lunch but got his voice mail again.

  He still hadn’t called by that evening.

  “Hello, this is Au Nga-Yee. Could you call me back when you get this?” This came out a little exasperated. What was the point of giving out a phone number if you were never going to pick up?

  There was nothing that night, but she woke at seven the next day to find a text message in her in-box: “Are you blind? Make sure you’ve searched the whole apartment, moron.”

  This had arrived at 4:38 a.m. Wide awake now, Nga-Yee resentfully thought that N was underestimating her. Since Siu-Man’s death, she hadn’t been able to sit with her thoughts, so had endlessly distracted herself with housework. She’d cleaned every inch of the flat, apart from Siu-Man’s things. If the phone was on a kitchen shelf, by the TV, or even under a sofa cushion, she’d definitely have spotted it. She almost texted back an angry response but managed to calm down.

  She was at work till eight, after which she decided to go back to N’s place and drag him back by force if necessary, to prove she hadn’t missed anything. But just as she was about to board the tram that would take her to the west of Hong Kong Island, she thought of something else.

  There was one place she had avoided looking at too closely: the window Siu-Man had jumped from. It was next to the washing machine, and every time Nga-Yee did laundry during the last month, she imagined Siu-Man leaning against the machine, stepping onto the folding chairs next to it, pushing the window open, and leaping out.

  Could she have been holding her phone right up to the last moment?

  She hurried home, gathered her courage, and went into the laundry area, forcing herself to search.

  When she knelt down and put her face on the ground, she saw it.

  Siu-Man’s phone was under the washing machine.

  Nga-Yee reached for it, but her hand wouldn’t fit. Looking around, her eye landed on some metal clothes hangers. Hands shaking, she quickly unfolded one and hooked the wire under the machine.

  There it was: a cat charm dangling from it, a crack across the screen where it hit the ground. Nga-Yee pressed the power button, but nothing happened. Her heart sank. Had it broken when it fell? Dashing over to Siu-Man’s desk, she was trembling so badly it took three attempts to plug it into the charger.

  Ping.

  The screen lit up, and a “charging” symbol appeared. Nga-Yee let out a sigh of relief. Looking back at the window, she wondered how the phone had landed there in the first place. Had Siu-Man dropped it? But it would have taken some force for it to slide so far under the machine. Had she thrown it? Or had it been kicked in there by accident? Had it slipped between the machine and the wall?

  What had Siu-Man been doing just before she died?

  Nga-Yee had no idea, and she gave up trying to work it out. The main thing was, she had the phone. As it charged, she hit the power button again. The screen lit up with the service provider’s logo, then a grid of nine circles. She slid her fingertip across them, but “password incorrect” flashed up. After a few attempts, she gave up and let it charge.

  N’s a hacker. He’ll be able to get in, she thought.

  Her initial impulse had been to rush over to N’s with the phone, but as the excitement faded, she realized it was too late to set out now. She’d have to get a taxi back, which would be expensive. Besides, what if she hurried over only to have him toss it in a corner? She decided to wait till after work the next day, when she’d be able to stand over him as he hacked the password.

  “I’ve found Siu-Man’s phone. I’ll bring it over after work tomorrow,” she texted when he failed to answer her call yet again.

  That night, Nga-Yee dreamed of Siu-Man. She was sitting on the couch, engrossed with her phone as usual. Nga-Yee said something to her, and she replied, but when Nga-Yee woke up, she couldn’t remember what they’d talked about.

  All she remembered was Siu-Man’s smiling face.

  In the morning, she wiped the traces of tears from her eyes, washed up and got dressed, put the charged phone into her bag, and left for the library.

  “You’ve been so distracted lately, Nga-Yee,” Wendy said to her in the break room at lunchtime. “Are you really all right?”

  “Yes. I’m just worried about something,” she replied.

  “Is it about the investigation? Hasn’t my uncle found anything yet?” Wendy had no idea that the case had been passed on to a maverick hacker detective.

  Nga-Yee hedged. “There’s been some progress.”

  “If money’s the problem, I can help out,” said Wendy earnestly. Ever since Siu-Man’s death, she’d been full of concern for Nga-Yee.

  “You lent me eight hundred just a few days ago. That’s enough.”

  “Is my uncle charging too much? My aunt’s always been fond of me. I could ask her if he could lower his rate …” Wendy got out her cell phone, ready to Whatsapp Mrs. Mok right away.

  As Wendy slid her finger across the keypad to unlock her phone, Nga-Yee froze. An image flashed into her mind: Siu-Man doing the same thing. For a second she thought this was from her dream the night before, but then she realized.

  This was an actual memory of a moment she’d glimpsed: Siu-Man unlocking her phone.

  Bottom left, middle left, top right, middle, top left.

  She quickly pulled out Siu-Man’s phone and entered the pattern she remembered. This time the password screen melted away.

  Cracking the code did bring her a moment of happiness, but as soon as she saw the words on the screen, she felt her organs go into free fall and her scalp grow numb. When she clicked, what she saw next made her heart beat so much faster, she thought she might stop breathing.

  “Wen-Wendy, please help me say I needed half a day off—” she stuttered, trying to steady herself.

  “What’s wrong? Nga-Yee, are you all right?”

  “I—I need to leave and take care of something urgent. Pl—please just help me deal with—” She dropped the phone into her bag and, ignoring Wendy’s cries, rushed out of the building.

  Nga-Yee had never used a smartphone, but she’d clicked instinctively on the email icon, which brought up the most recent message:

  From: kid kit

  To: Siu-Man

  Date: May 5, 2015, 06:06 pm

 
; Subject: RE:

  Au Siu-Man,

  Are you brave enough to die? Aren’t you just up to your usual tricks, trying to make people feel sorry for you? Your classmates won’t be fooled again. Scum like you have no right to go on living.

  kidkit727

  Thursday, May 21, 2015

  There’s something I haven’t told you.

  22:07 ✔

  I emailed Au Siu-Man.

  Will that be a problem?

  22:07 ✔

  possibly

  22:09

  how did you send it?

  22:10

  was it the way I taught you?

  22:11

  covering your tracks online

  22:12

  Yes.

  22:15 ✔

  that’s okay then

  22:16

  don’t worry

  22:17

  CHAPTER FOUR

  1.

  “Everyone, listen up! Make sure you dress properly tomorrow! Tidy your desks and get rid of any personal items by today. If your desktop wallpaper is some porno chick, change it. I’ll check tomorrow morning, and if I see anything that makes the company look bad, I’ll dock five hundred dollars from your pay!”

  Mr. Lee had taken a phone call and was now standing in the middle of the GT Technology office, screaming at his employees. Although he seemed flustered, it was clear to all that underneath it was excitement.

  “What’s up, boss?” asked Hao.

  “A VC is coming tomorrow! A foreign one—just joined the Productivity Council’s program, and they’re interested in us. They might want to invest!” Mr. Lee shouted. Ma-Chai and Sze Chung-Nam stopped coding and turned to face him.