Shanghai Story

by Alexa Kang

  “Technically, she’s not under our jurisdiction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her body was found here, but she’s not a British or an American citizen. Or any country’s citizen. If she was Chinese living in the International Settlement, we’d turn this over to the Chinese police. But as it is, she’s stateless.”

  “So what? Are you not going to investigate because she’s stateless?”

  “Hold on.” He held up his hand. “I didn’t say that. But we do need to make sure we have proper jurisdiction. You said she lives on Avenue Joffre?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Her home’s in Frenchtown. This should be a matter for the French police.”

  “A matter for the French police? The murder took place here.”

  “No. We have no proof of that. The body was discarded here, but from the looks of things, the murder didn’t take place in front of the Temple. No one could’ve sliced up a body this way on a big street like Nanking Road without anyone noticing. The homicide could’ve been committed anywhere.”

  Eden crossed her fingers under the table. She felt utterly unsure and confused.

  An officer knocked and opened the door. “The victim’s parents are here.”

  “Thank you,” Bonham said. “Will you come with me, Miss Levine?”

  “Yes.” Eden grabbed her purse, nearly spilling the glass of water they’d given her. The murder of her friend had her still trembling.

  Out in the waiting area, Mr. and Mrs. Berman stood up as Inspector Bonham and Eden came out.

  “Eden!” Mr. Berman called out. When Eden’s eyes welled up, a look of realization came to Mrs. Berman’s face. She bowed over and wailed. Eden hurried over and put her arms around the woman.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Bonham said. “Your daughter’s body has been taken to the morgue. You can claim it after the coroner has examined her body. For now, my best suggestion for you is to report this to the French Police.”

  “The French Police?” Mr. Berman asked.

  “Yes. I’m afraid we don’t have jurisdiction over this case. Your family lives in Frenchtown. They should oversee the investigation.”

  Mr. Berman stood with his mouth open. A single tear fell from his eye.

  “I’m very sorry.” Bonham tucked in his chin.

  The two parents looked lost and heartbroken. Gathering up her strength, Eden said to them, “Come on. Let’s go report this. I’ll take you.”

  Still sobbing, Mrs. Berman wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. Eden pulled her lightly by the arm and led her and her husband out of the station.

  Who killed Lillian? She swore she would find the monster who did this. She would.

  At the Garde Municipale, the police officer Rousseau kept shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We don’t have jurisdiction. She’s not French. The crime didn’t happen in our sector. You have to go to the SMP.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Eden said. She was having a hard enough time trying to keep Mr. and Mrs. Berman from falling to pieces. “The SMP told us to come here.”

  “They’re wrong.” Rousseau put out his cigarette in the ashtray. “They have the body. They have all the physical evidence. We can’t send our police to their sector to conduct an investigation. Go back and ask to speak to someone higher up.”

  Eden stared up at the ceiling. A young woman was dead. Murdered. And all these people cared about was jurisdiction?

  “I’m sorry. My hands are tied,” Rousseau said without an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

  It was useless. Eden put her hand on Mrs. Berman’s shoulder. “Why don’t you two go home first. I’ll go back to the SMP station and sort this out. You can then come and give your statements. I’m a reporter. They’ll cooperate with me,” she said. She had no idea if what she said was true. She only said it to make the Bermans feel better. Even if it wasn’t, she could go back to Zelik and tell him what happened. He might have a better idea what they could do. She needed to buy time.

  The Bermans agreed. They looked drained of energy. Eden couldn’t imagine how devastated they must be. Miriam, Yuri, Igor. All their friends would be devastated too when they found out.

  Back at the SMP police station, Bonham still would not relent.

  “There’s a murderer out there.” Eden pounded her fists lightly on the table. It took everything in her to keep her fury in check. “This happened in your sector. Aren’t you worried about that?”

  “Of course I am, Miss Levine,” Bonham said, raising his voice. “But we’ve got rules. There are protocols. We’re dealing with wider implications than the murder of one person. If we overstep our boundaries and step on anyone’s toes, the whole thing could turn into an international relations crisis.”

  “I don’t understand. Whose toes would you step on? The French police already said they’re not taking the case.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can unilaterally pick it up and run with it. I can’t help it if the victim’s stateless.”

  “You mean Jewish.”

  “No.” Bonham held up his finger. “Stateless, not Jewish.”

  Jewish. Stateless. Semantics, Eden thought. Why did he keep bringing up the fact that Lillian was stateless? The difference between the two words was meaningless. If Lillian wasn’t a Jew, she’d bet he wouldn’t come up with all these excuses to shirk his duties.

  Bonham let out a loud sigh. “I’m not a cold-hearted person like you think, Miss Levine. I’ve worked for the police force for many years. I’ve seen some very bad things, and this case still shocks me. It takes someone very vicious to mutilate and kill a young woman from a nice family this way.” He closed his hands on the table. “Tell you what. Why don’t you give us a little time? The coroner has to finish his job first anyway, and my boys have already gathered whatever evidence they could find at the crime scene. Let me talk to the French police and see if I can straighten out who has proper jurisdiction over the case. We’ll go from there, okay?”

  Reluctantly, Eden agreed. As Bonham hadn’t closed the door, she didn’t want to risk pushing it shut. “You’ll let me know first thing when the matter is sorted?”

  “Definitely.”

  She doubted it, but for now, waiting was all she could do.

  Back at the China Press headquarters, Eden gave Zelik a full account of what had happened. Zelik wasn’t happy at all to hear that the victim was a Jewish refugee.

  “The crux of the problem is, Lillian has no citizenship,” Zelik explained. “She’s a stateless person. That makes it a tricky matter that no one wants to touch. Among countries here, there’s an unspoken protocol about how things are handled when a foreigner is killed. If she was a prostitute, a petty criminal, a drug addict, or a gambler, then most likely no one would pursue the case. But she’s not any of those, and the way she was killed was shockingly brutal. Whoever the killer is, assuming he’s not also a stateless person, his own country will go out of their way to defend his innocence. No country wants to see headlines splashed all over that one of their own committed a barbarous act against an innocent young woman. The only way to bring the offender to trial would be for the victim’s own country to force the case. Depending on the relationships between the two countries, there could be negotiations at the consulate level too.”

  He sat back, pondering the situation. “Lillian has no advocate. The Britons have no incentive pressing for a high-profile case on behalf of a stateless Jew, especially if it turns out the crime was committed by a citizen of one of their allied countries. Doing so would damage Britain’s relationship with another country. And if they find out the perpetrator was a British citizen, then the Shanghai Municipal Council would be in a bind. They certainly wouldn’t want to see headlines about that either. The same could be said for the French.”

  “This is an outrage,” Eden said. “Doesn’t Lillian’s life matter? This is a murder case, not an international political affair.”

  “Welcome to Shanghai.” Zelik gave her a wry s
mile. “Everything here is international and political. It’s the way things are run. No matter where you go, every authority will claim the right to take something from you. But when there’s a mess and you need help, none of them will take responsibility. They’ll all try to pass it on to the next bloke.”

  “What do you think will happen now?”

  “You said the SMP told you they’d check with the French. We’ll see what happens with that. My guess would be not much. Since Lillian is stateless, it’ll be in the SMP and French Police’s interest for this whole thing to go away. Let the news die and soon enough everyone will forget about it.”

  A lump rose in Eden’s throat. Would Lillian just be forgotten? Would the killer get away with what he’d done to her?

  “But that’s why we’re here,” Zelik said.

  Eden looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll keep this in the news. We’ll call the SMP out for doing nothing if it comes to that. We’ll have to be Lillian’s advocate.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll call the editors at the Gelbe and some of the other Jewish community papers. They’ll help, I’m sure. We’ll keep this on the public’s mind if no one else will. And if the police won’t investigate this, we will. We’ll get to the bottom of this. If Lillian can’t get her day in court, we’ll make sure she gets one in the court of public opinion.”

  “Yes.” For the first time since this morning, Eden felt hope.

  “Now, didn’t you say you know the victim personally?”

  “I did. She’s a friend. In fact, we just celebrated her birthday yesterday.”

  “Then what are you still sitting there for? Don’t you have an article to write?” He checked his watch. “If you hurry, you can still make the evening edition.”

  “Yes, Mr. Zelik.” She rose and hurried back to her desk.

  In front of the typewriter, she began.

  A young woman was brutally murdered after celebrating her twentieth birthday only yesterday. The body of Lillian Berman, a student studying psychology at Aurora University, was discovered in front of the Jing ’An Temple this morning, slashed all the way from her neck down to her abdomen. The full scale of her injuries is still being assessed by the coroner. The shockingly brutal homicide should put the SMP on high alert. Who could have done such a thing to an innocent young lady? If the killer is not caught, will he strike again? Are any of us safe?

  Alas, the SMP is stalling even as a killer is at large in its own backyard. According to the police, investigation has not begun because Miss Berman, a recent immigrant from Berlin, is deemed a stateless person. Refusing to take responsibility, the SMP seeks to transfer the case to the Garde Municipale, claiming lack of jurisdiction. For the same reason, the Garde Municipale also refused to take on the case. While the two police departments are wrapped up in the pointless debate over jurisdiction, those who live in this city are left to fend for ourselves.

  Eden reviewed the draft she’d written so far. This ought to put some pressure on the police not to drop the case. She continued, hitting the keyboard with her fingers, adding descriptions of all the best qualities she knew about Lillian. Her vivaciousness. Her sense of adventure. Her bravery to stand up against those who tried to take advantage of her, and even the Nazis. Yes, Eden realized, she had the power to tell the world who Lillian was, and why she deserved to be remembered regardless of whether she was stateless or not, and why the killer must be brought to justice for cutting short the life of such a beautiful person.

  If anyone has any tips or information as to what might have happened to Miss Berman the night of the murder, please contact the SMP as soon as possible and urge them to investigate the case. You can also contact the China Press.

  Ding! Eden typed the last word and pulled the paper out of the typewriter.

  I promise, Lillian, she thought to herself. We’ll get to the bottom of this.

  26

  The Problem of Jurisdiction

  A full week had passed since the day Lillian was killed. Neither Eden nor the Bermans had received a word from the SMP about the murder investigation, or if an investigation had even begun at all. The only time they’d called the Bermans was when the coroner had completed his examination. When the Bermans went to claim the remains, Eden had gone along to provide support. There, they learned Lillian had not only been killed, but also raped.

  Her poor parents were heartbroken all over again.

  Who? Who could’ve done this to her?

  The dentist Roland Vaughn was the last known person to be with her. Would he know anything? Eden wondered. He had to have heard about Lillian’s murder. Why hadn’t he contacted her parents to offer to help, or at least, to offer his condolences?

  This man was key to revealing the course of events that night. Someone official needed to call him in for questioning.

  The matter couldn’t wait. She had to urge the SMP to take action.

  Hoping she could convince the SMP to question Roland Vaughn, Eden returned to the Central Station. This time, Inspector Bonham was even less cooperative. In the meeting room at the police station, he began to complain even before Eden could get a word in.

  “Do you know how many calls we’ve been receiving every day?” He threw an old copy of the China Press article she’d written in front of her. “Thanks to you telling people to call in with tips, I’ve got all kinds of garden-variety lunatics phoning in. Just now, I got a crazy jealous wife demanding we arrest her husband. Her proof that he did it? She asked him if he was cheating on her the day before the murder, so he must’ve killed the girl to stop her from finding out. You know who else called? Drug addicts. Men so high on opium they imagined they killed her. One of them turned himself in. He said he murdered her by telepathic power. My staff is so busy answering these loonies’ calls, they haven’t got time to do any real work.”

  Eden pushed the newspaper aside. “What is your real work, Mr. Bonham, if not to solve rapes and murders? Maybe if you actually found and arrested the killer, I wouldn’t have needed to ask the public to help, and these people wouldn’t be calling you.”

  “Look, Miss Levine.” He spread his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “I know she was your friend. I’m truly, truly sorry for your loss. My heart goes out to her parents. But we’ve got a pile of other cases this high still to solve,” he said, raising his hand up to metaphorically show her. “And that’s not to mention all the reports we have to send back to London about anything here that might threaten our country’s security. You may not believe this, but I’ve personally pleaded with my superiors to consider taking up this case. I’m pleased to tell you, they’re reviewing my request. It’s just awfully difficult for us to divert resources to investigate a case that, from our point of view, isn’t even under our jurisdiction.”

  “What happens while your supervisors take their time to make up their minds? There’s a monstrous killer walking around out there.”

  “I know, I know,” he said. “That’s why we’ve tightened security. We’ve added patrols. And if the lunatics would stop calling, we’d be quicker to respond to emergencies and prevent anything like this from happening again. We’ve put pressure on the French police to accept responsibility for the case too. After all, it’s one of their residents who got killed.”

  Great, Eden thought. The blame game. “Inspector.” She looked him in the eye. “What can I do to convince you this case is within your jurisdiction.”

  Bonham crossed his arms. “Show me evidence we have jurisdiction over the suspect.”

  “You must be joking. It’s your job to find the killer. Not mine.”

  “You asked what would convince me. I gave you the answer.” Bonham closed his file.

  “What if I give you the name of someone who might have clues, or may know who the killer is?”

  “Not good enough. If you can’t give me proof we have jurisdiction over the killer, then step aside and let us do our job our way. I’ve given you the courtesy o
f my time on the account you’re a friend of the deceased. You’re not related to her, and she’s not a British or American citizen. I don’t really owe you an explanation. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to work.” He got up and opened the door.

  Helpless, Eden stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Thank you for nothing,” she said on her way out.

  At her desk at work, Eden sat for a long time, trying to think of what to write. She could berate the SMP again for their inaction, but the China Press had already run several articles about that and the message was getting stale. Readers needed new information to stay interested, and she absolutely had to write something to keep them interested. It was the only way to keep the story of Lillian’s murder alive. As long as people remained concerned, there would be pressure on the authorities, and there would still be a chance to capture the killer.

  The other newspapers in the city must have thought the same thing, although they had very different ideas about how to keep the readers interested. With no news forthcoming on a possible suspect, the media had turned their attention to the victim herself. The North China Daily News, Shanghai’s premier English-language newspaper which was owned by the British, released an article today suggesting that Lillian wasn’t murdered, but died from a botched abortion. Earlier this week, the Shanghai Evening Post & Mercury, an American-owned publication, insinuated that Lillian was a loose, immoral girl who might have invited danger to herself. They based their entire premise on the comments of several American Marines who claimed they knew her and that she frequented the bars in Blood Alley. The Shanghai Zaria, which targeted a mainly Russian audience, reported that the Chinese had killed Lillian to steal her organs for medicine. They quoted anonymous sources who made the ludicrous claim that the Chinese believed the organs of a young foreigner had rare healing powers. That wasn’t even the worst yet. The German-language newspaper, Ostasiasticher Lloyd, alleged that the Jews themselves had butchered Lillian as part of a demon-worshipping ritual.