‘Will do, Ted. There’s a crowd gathering outside.’
‘Already? The word’s got out quick. Better push the cordon out to the top of the lane. Nobody in or out unless they’re part of the investigation.’
The uniformed sergeant turned to give instructions to his team.
‘And John, see if you can find my oppo. He was only supposed to be parking the bloody car.’
‘Right, Ted.’
The Detective Sergeant fished a pair of blue plastic gloves from his pocket and slid them over his hands. ‘Come on, Ridpath, let’s see what you’ve found for me.’
He stepped across the threshold and Ridpath followed.
‘Why were you in this neck of the woods?’
‘Checking something for the coroner and serving a subpoena on this man to appear at an inquest tomorrow.’
They walked into the living room. Jones took a long look at the body lying on the floor. ‘Looks like he won’t be able to make it. What time did you discover him?’
Ridpath checked his watch. ‘Exactly 11.05.’
Another detective walked in to join them, panting heavily. He was wearing blue gloves too. ‘Sorry I’m late, Sarge.’
‘No worries, this is Ridpath, he discovered the body.’
The young detective checked Ridpath out. ‘Should he be in here with us?’
‘Sorry, Ridpath, I can’t get the staff these days. I don’t know what they are teaching them at Edgely Park any more.’ He turned back to his young detective. ‘I’ll repeat myself. This is Detective Inspector Ridpath, currently attached to the Coroner’s Office. He discovered the body.’
The detective reddened. ‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Don’t worry…?’
‘Hunter, sir, Detective Constable Rob Hunter.’
‘Just call me Ridpath, everybody else does. The only people you call sir are the Chief Constable and the Mayor and only if they can hear you.’
‘When’s the pathologist getting here?’
‘Should be in the next ten minutes, Ted. It’s Dr Schofield.’
‘The one that sounds like a young kid?’
‘Think so.’
Ridpath interrupted him. ‘He’s good, Ted, give him a chance.’
Ted Jones smirked. He nodded his head towards the dead man lying on the floor. ‘What’s matey’s name?’
‘Liang Xiao Wen. I interviewed him last night about a death in Wilmslow Immigration Removal Centre. Sergeant Mungovan over at Cheadle Heath has all his details.’
Ted Jones frowned.
Ridpath explained. ‘He was signing in daily at 6 p.m. Arrested for overstaying his visa.’
‘Well, I guess it’ll be one less they’ll have to deport. Rob, can you take Ridpath’s statement? Better get it over and done with.’
Hunter took his arm and led him outside to the lobby. He took his notebook out and spent the next thirty minutes going over Ridpath’s statement. The young detective was at least thorough.
Dr Schofield arrived when they were halfway through.
‘I heard this was one of yours, Ridpath. Not busy enough in the Coroner’s Office, you go out looking for bodies?’
Ridpath stayed silent.
‘And I’ve finished the post-mortem on your woman, Ms Chen. I’ve checked out the test results and I’m just waiting for toxicology to come in. I’ll send them over to Sophia this afternoon.’
‘Can you give me a heads-up?’
The pathologist leant in and whispered. ‘Not now. I’ll be finished here in about an hour,’ he checked his watch, ‘come to the morgue at three. I want to show you something.’
‘All very cloak and dagger.’
‘Not really, but when you see, you’ll know why it’s important. Anyway, I think I have another customer waiting, so if you’ll excuse me.’
What did the pathologist want to tell him?
Chapter 36
Yang May Feng slammed the door behind her as she entered the apartment, leaning back on it, out of breath.
She had run from the Uber along the path and up the stairs, hoping against hope he wasn’t outside waiting for her.
Last night she had gone to the club and reported to the mama-san.
‘You haven’t been here for nearly a week and you expect me to put you to work?’
She put on her best sad face. ‘I’m sorry to have let you down, but I had flu. It’s the English weather, it’s supposed to be warm now but I’m wearing a coat.’
The mama-san sniffed. ‘You’re lucky. Mamie has called in sick tonight and I’m short of girls.’
‘Thank you, mama. Can I be picked first? I can work hard tonight to make up the time I lost.’
‘We’ll think about it. Go and redo your make-up.’
Of course, she was called soon after: a group of buyers from Beijing with their English clients. She made sure she was placed next to the Beijing boss and a few deft touches under the table soon had him interested.
The evening was going well. She’d sang a few karaoke songs and the boss had already suggested they go back to his hotel. She, of course, had demurred. When you land a big fish, it’s always better to reel him in slowly.
They’d drunk a lot of whisky and her head was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. She made her excuses and went to the bathroom to drink some water and have a break.
It was on her way back that she saw him.
He was sitting at the bar, with his back to her, drinking alone. Had he spotted her in the private room? Or maybe heard her voice?
She didn’t know, but she couldn’t stay there any longer. She rushed into the room and made a pretence of falling into the boss’ arms.
‘I’m so tired, let’s go back,’ was all the inducement she needed. She took him out the back way to avoid being seen, lying that it was easier to get a cab.
They went back to his hotel, where after a glass of whisky, he fell asleep.
That morning he apologised as if it had been something wrong, and gave her a large tip in compensation. She liked these sorts of men: easy to control and embarrassed in the morning. They always paid the best.
Kicking off her high-heeled shoes, she unzipped the tight cheongsam and wriggled out of it. She needed a shower. She stank of cigarettes, whisky and cheap cologne.
She walked to the bathroom and stopped.
What was that?
A noise, like something she remembered from her childhood. A scraping sound in the kitchen.
And it came to her. The sound was like a knife being sharpened on a whetstone.
Her father used to do it every Saturday, taking out the knives and choppers in the morning, wetting the stone with water and sharpening them slowly and rhythmically.
The sound was like music to her young ears.
But what was it doing in there? She grabbed an umbrella from near the door and crept towards the kitchen.
Holding her breath, she pushed it open, hearing her heart beat loudly in her chest as if it was ready to burst. Part of her expected to see her father’s face sitting at the table with his array of knives, looking up from the whetstone and smiling.
Instead, there was nobody there.
The edge of one of the metal blinds was being blown by the draught to scrape down the plaster of the wall.
She breathed out, dropping the umbrella. She couldn’t go on like this, not any more. She had to get away.
And then she realised the draught came from an open window.
Had she left it unlocked when she went out last night?
Chapter 37
After DS Hunter had finished taking his statement, Ridpath waited around for fifteen minutes to see if he was needed.
Around him, the forensic technicians in their white suits were unpacking their gear. The crime scene manager, Tracy Millward, recognised him. ‘Ridpath, what are you doing here? I thought you were still with the Coroner’s Office. Your lot normally come after we’ve finished, not before we’ve started.’
‘I discovered th
e body, Tracey.’
‘Oh, did you touch anything inside?’
Ridpath thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think so,’ then he remembered, ‘I touched the door though.’
‘Better fingerprint you anyway, just to eliminate your dabs.’ She called one of her technicians over. ‘And, if you went inside, we’ll need those.’ She pointed to his shoes.
‘Do you have to?’
‘You know the rules, Ridpath. There may be footprints on the floor. We have to eliminate your shoes. I’ve got a pair of flip-flops in the van if you want.’
So here Ridpath was, driving back to the Coroner’s Court wearing a pair of bright pink flip-flops. He parked and ran up to the office, passing Jenny Oldfield in a vivid purple dress at reception. ‘Love the colours, Ridpath. Grey and pink, my sort of style. Have we converted you?’
‘No, my shoes are at a crime scene,’ he shouted over his shoulder.
Sophia was waiting for him. ‘You’re late, Ridpath. Mrs Challoner is already with the family. What’s with the…?’ She pointed to the pink flip-flops.
‘Don’t ask. Get on to Dr Schofield, confirm I’ll go to the morgue at 3 p.m. Ask him to compare his preliminary findings from the crime scene with Wendy Chen.’
‘Preliminary findings? Crime scene? What crime scene, Ridpath?’
But he was already gone, down the corridor to the meeting room. He knocked on the door and entered. Inside an old Chinese couple were sat next to a younger Chinese woman with glasses. Mrs Challoner was sitting opposite.
As soon as he entered, the coroner stared at him for a moment before saying, ‘This is my coroner’s officer, Detective Inspector Ridpath. He’s been investigating the death of your daughter.’
‘Sorry I’m late, held up.’
The young woman translated the coroner’s words for the parents of Wendy Chen as Ridpath sat next to the coroner, carefully hiding the pink shoes under the table.
Ridpath noticed the interpreter was using Mandarin not Cantonese. These people were from mainland China, not from Hong Kong.
Mrs Challoner leant closer to Ridpath and whispered to him. ‘I’ve filled in the family on the procedures and explained the nature of the inquest. They’ve decided not to be legally represented, even though I would prefer it if they were. I think it’s a question of money. Is there anything you want to ask them?’
‘I need to know more about their daughter and what she was doing here.’
‘Be gentle with them, Ridpath. I think they are both in a state of shock, the mother in particular.’
Ridpath studied the old woman. Her head was down as she listened to the interpreter. In her hand, a sodden paper tissue was gripped tightly.
The interpreter finished speaking and Mrs Challoner continued. ‘My investigating officer would like to ask you some questions about your daughter, if he may?’
The interpreter spoke and the old man nodded once, no sign of emotion on his face.
Ridpath brought out his notebook and smiled at the old couple, receiving a blank look from the old man. ‘Just a few details for our records. Your daughter was 23 years old, is that correct?’
The old man glanced at his wife as the interpreter translated the question. He answered slowly and deliberately in Mandarin.
The interpreter spoke for him. ‘That’s right.’
‘And where was she born?’
Again the interpreter answered after he spoke. ‘In Shanghai, she was born in Shanghai.’
‘The name she used in the Immigration Centre was Wendy Tang. Is this her correct name?’
The old man shook his head. The interpreter shook hers also. ‘No, it’s not right. As we told the other policeman, her name is, was,’ the interpreter corrected herself, ‘Chen Hong Xi, but she likes to call herself Wendy Chen, like a westerner. I’m sorry, this man is using the present tense when talking about his daughter, not the past. How do you want me to translate?’
Mrs Challoner spoke. ‘Tell us his exact words, please.’
The interpreter nodded.
Ridpath continued. ‘How did she get a different surname?’
‘I don’t know.’
The old woman next to him sniffed and brought the sodden handkerchief up to her face.
‘When did she come to England?’
‘She left us in Shanghai about three months ago. I don’t know when she arrived in England.’
‘You don’t know when she arrived here?’
The man shook his head. The interpreter spoke. ‘No, I don’t think she came straight here.’
‘Where did she go first?’
‘I don’t know.’
Ridpath made a note in his book. This wasn’t going well. He tried a different tack. ‘Did she contact you when she was in England?’
The man nodded. ‘She rings us every Sunday. It’s great to hear her voice. She’s our only child, you see. China, one child policy.’
‘So when was the first time she rang you?’
The man glanced at his wife again. ‘June, I think, the middle of June.’
Ridpath pulled out his phone and checked the calendar. ‘So it would be June 14 or June 21?’
The interpreter translated and there was long conversation between the two of them. Finally, she answered, ‘He doesn’t know the exact date. They are old, they don’t keep track of time so precisely.’
‘OK, and when was the last time she rang you?’
As the interpreter translated, the woman began to sob quietly.
‘She last called us on August 19. She said she had been arrested again, and was inside a prison…’
‘She called you from the prison?’
The man continued to speak as the interpreter translated. ‘That’s what she said. She might be coming home but Xiao Feng was fine. She was going to try to stay. She knew what to do.’
‘Xiao Feng? Who was Xiao Feng?’
‘Her friend, the one who she left Shanghai with.’
As the man spoke, his wife reached into a bag on the floor. She pulled out an album, flipping it forward to a photograph of two girls, arm in arm, standing in front of a river with a futuristic building in the background. The woman touched the girl on the right. ‘Xiao Feng.’
‘And this is your daughter?’
The interpreter answered yes.
‘Can I keep this photograph?’
The woman took it out of the album and gave it to Ridpath. ‘Do you have any other pictures of your daughter?’
The woman turned to the first page and showed a close-up of a young woman smiling at the camera, her face happy and radiant.
‘My daughter…’ the interpreter said as the woman looked down and sobbed again. Her husband put his arm around her but didn’t pull her closer. There was still a formality, a stiffness between the two of them.
There was a pause before she slumped forward on the table, the interpreter and her husband both trying to hold her up, as she said the same words over and over again. ‘My poor daughter. My poor daughter. My poor daughter.’
Mrs Challoner glanced across at Ridpath as the interpreter tried to calm the woman. Gradually, the crying subsided.
All Ridpath could see was a hunched back over a table, occasionally trembling as if shaken with a profound grief.
He checked his notes. One word was underlined. He had to ask the question now.
In front of him, the woman drank some water from a cup held by her husband. Her eyes were red and sore, the salt of the tears white against her skin.
‘I’d just like to ask a question,’ Ridpath spoke softly. ‘You stated your daughter had been arrested again. What did you mean?’
The old man’s face didn’t betray any emotion. ‘I don’t know.’
With a speed and a violence belying her small stature, the woman slammed her small fist down on the table and shouted at her husband in Mandarin.
Both Mrs Challoner and Ridpath looked to the interpreter.
‘She’s telling him to tell the truth. Their dau
ghter is dead and it’s too late for lies now. Too late. They’ve come all this way to this ugly country to take their daughter’s body back home… no more lies. Their daughter is dead, they’ll never see her again, never speak to her again, never hold her in their arms.’
The man said nothing throughout the tirade from his wife. He just sat there, his eyes blinking, holding back tears.
Finally, the woman turned to Mrs Challoner and Ridpath and spoke in Mandarin.
‘It’s time to tell the truth,’ the interpreter translated.
Chapter 38
Ridpath could see the pain in her eyes. She spoke in a softer, more lilting voice than her husband as the interpreter translated.
‘Even though we saw our daughter, white and cold at the house of the dead this morning, my husband still thinks Hong Xi is alive somewhere and she is going to come back soon to give him a hug and a smile.’
A long pause.
‘I know she’s dead.’
Mrs Challoner handed over a fresh packet of tissues which the woman took with a whispered, ‘Xie, xie’ before continuing.
‘My daughter is 26 not 23 and she changed her name because she had already been deported from England before, and thought the computers might recognise her if she used her real name.’
‘She was deported before?’ asked Mrs Challoner softly.
The interpreter repeated the question in Mandarin and immediately translated as Mrs Chen replied.
‘She first came to England as a student. She was a bright girl and had so many dreams. China is such a big place, but in her eyes, it was too small. My daughter had big dreams; she wanted to see the world, experience the world and everything all at once.’
‘So she came to England. When was this?’
‘In 2015. She applied to study in a language school in Manchester. Her friend Xiao Feng was already there. It cost a lot of money, we’re not rich and we had to pay for the visa, the permits in China, the air fare and the school fees. We thought, this is our daughter, we should help her achieve her dreams, even though it meant we were going to lose her to a country far away. But isn’t that what parents do? Give their children a better life than the one they had?’
As the interpreter spoke, the woman was staring at Ridpath. He felt she was looking into his soul, seeing all his dreams and hopes and desires for Eve, talking directly to him.
Where the Innocent Die Page 13
