by M J Lee
‘Yes, on three occasions.
‘And the patients?’
‘For them, it’s life-changing. Literally.’
‘How did he come to you?’
‘I’m well known in the community. Most of my patients get to hear of me through word of mouth.’
‘Oh, and where would one hear such words? Where would one see such mouths?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’ The smile had vanished again and more beads of sweat had formed on the doctor’s forehead.
Danilov remained silent.
The fountain pen was now revolving like a spinning top caught in a hurricane. After an age of spinning, the doctor spoke. ‘Most of my patients go to a particular club.’
‘Which “particular” club?’
‘The Paresis Hall on Foochow Road. Most of the androgynes go there. There’s a small number of gynanders too. But I don’t treat those.’ A look of distaste crossed the doctor’s face.
‘Gynanders?’
‘Women who want to be men. I don’t treat them. Not my field.’
‘Good, we will pay them a visit.’
‘Please don’t tell them that I told you, my business…’
The doctor had reached across his desk and touched the Inspector’s arm. Danilov looked down at the hand on his sleeve and gently removed it, placing it back on the oak desk. ‘Mr Sellars had a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. A verse from the bible.’
‘He asked me to help him get rid of it. Something he had done when he was a member of some religious group. The Children of God. American missionaries. I tried to remove it, but tattoos are difficult…’ He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Thank you, Doctor. You have been most helpful.’ Danilov stood up and strolled across the room to the door. Just before he opened it, he turned as if remembering something. ‘One last question.’
‘Yes, Inspector,’ answered Dr Lamarr. The pen was spinning again.
‘It’s strange you haven’t asked me what happened to Mr Sellars.’
The pen began to spin faster. ‘I thought you had arrested him and maybe he had given you my name.’
‘No, Doctor. He never mentioned you. Mr Sellars is dead, you see. Murdered. Not far from here, in Soochow Creek.’
Danilov opened the door and left, followed by Strachan.
The doctor sat behind his desk, his mouth open. The spinning pen fell from his fingers, splattering the elegant oak desk with drops of expensive mauve ink.
Chapter 10
Ah Yi Kao decided to go to the park that afternoon. It was a wonderfully clear day, the sun was shining and a slight breeze had blown away most of the coal smoke that clouded the skies during the winter. It would be good to get out of the house. The child was fretting and fidgeting, unable to run around. And how this child loved to run.
This was the third child she had looked after for the family, cooking the young ones’ food, enjoying afternoon naps with them, keeping them amused while the father made money and the mother spent it. The other two children were away at school now. She had just the one child left to look after. A proper handful he was turning out to be.
It would be good to get out of the house this afternoon. She packed a flask of warm congee and a few dough sticks for the child. He might get hungry when they were at the park. He was two years old and had just discovered he had legs; they were very useful when you wanted to run and, if you moved them quickly, they took you to places Ah Yi didn’t want you to go.
The mother wasn’t too keen when she told her she was going out that afternoon, but she didn’t say no. When it came to children, Ah Yi Kao always knew best. Better than any mother, of that she was sure.
She put the food, a small ball, and a bag full of towels, water, cloths for wiping his face, and an extra coat into the rack beneath the stroller. This stroller was her pride and joy. None of the other Ah Yis had anything like it. It had been imported from the USA, and she often paraded up and down outside the house in Sichuan Street, just to show off its shiny chromium wheels and handle, and the bright yellow hood. How she polished that stroller. It had to look its best when she went out with her child.
She dressed the child in warm clothes even though it wasn’t cold outside. A blue jumper she had knitted herself topped with a crimson padded jacket and matching trousers. She placed a warm, knitted hat on the child’s head, tying it beneath his double chin. Better to be safe than sorry. He stared up at her with his big dark eyes and round rosy cheeks, anticipation etched on his face. He loved going out. She pinched one of his cheeks for good luck.
‘Time to go, Xiao Ming,’ she said in Shanghainese. He struggled a little as she picked him up but as soon as she put him in the stroller, he sat there as quiet as Buddha.
They left the house, turning right at the end of the road and walking down Pekin Street towards the Bund. At that time in the afternoon, the roads weren’t busy. Above her head, the clear blue sky shone through the twisted arms of the plane trees that lined the road. She pulled the yellow hood down so Xiao Ming could see what was going on. Better for him, she thought. He twisted around and smiled at her. What a charming little smile he has. A proper ladykiller in the future.
At the end of the road, she smelt the wonderful aroma of roasting sweet potatoes. A hawker was standing on the corner with his bike and oven, stirring the charcoal. She went over and ordered two. The boy would be hungry after running around and they both loved the rich taste of sweet potato.
The hawker wanted 60 cents each. Shame on him, she knew the right price, offering him 30 cents and scolding him for being a dirty thief. Eventually, they agreed a price of 40 cents. It was a good bargain. Near her house, the hawkers charged 50 cents for each piece and they weren’t nearly as big as these. She would have to come this way again.
She turned left at the Bund and walked a short way until she reached the entrance to the public garden. She hesitated a moment before going in. It wasn’t so long ago the gardens were reserved for foreigners and their children. My child is as good as any of theirs, she thought, pushing her stroller into the park.
She expected a guard to jump out from behind one of the bushes, scold her and demand to know what she was doing there. It didn’t happen so she relaxed, walking the stroller further into the gardens. She smelt the first scents of spring in the magnolia blossoms that clung to one tree like dumplings cling to a fat man’s fingers. She reached up to one of the flowers, bringing it down to inhale its aroma. She let it go and lifted her face to drink in the sun. The garden was just beginning to show the first signs of spring. Buds glistened on the bare branches, birds frolicked in the undergrowth, a squirrel clawed its way up to the crown of a tree.
The boy screamed from his stroller. She looked around. The other maids were at the far end of the park and a tall European man was walking away from her. It would be safe to let him run around here.
She lifted him out of the stroller, placed him on the ground, tucking his jumper into his padded trousers. He toddled off with a wonderful self-assurance, his body swaying from side to side as he lifted his left and right legs. He let out a whoop of joy at being free from the house and the stroller. To the Ah Yi, it seemed as if a round, red ball had let out a cry of delight.
And then he was off. She was amazed how quickly he moved with his short stubby legs, running down the path and disappearing around the corner.
She pushed the stroller after him. There he was, already thirty yards ahead of her, turning another corner on the path. She ran after him as fast as her chubby legs could take her. Imagine the shame if a child fell over in her care. How would she explain the grazed knees or, even worse, a cut head to her mistress? The thought sent a shiver through her body. She pushed the stroller even more quickly, turning the corner as fast as she could.
The boy had stopped running now. He was talking to a European woman who was sitting on a park bench. Baby talk with lots of pointing and shaking of fingers.
Ah Yi Kao relaxed. He was fine, compla
ining about her, she expected. He had a habit of talking to strangers. She would soon put a stop to that behaviour.
She pushed the stroller towards them. The woman didn’t react to Xiao Ming at all. Usually, people would lean forward and listen, pretending to understand the gibberish the boy was speaking. This woman didn’t, she just sat there, staring into the distance.
As she got closer, the Ah Yi noticed the woman’s clothes. They were short and thin, even for such a warm day in late February. The sort of clothes only the worst type of Chinese women wore. Her skin was red too as if she had been sitting out in the cold too long. But the woman was foreign and you never knew the strange things foreign women got up to.
The Ah Yi moved forward to pull the boy away. He shouldn’t talk to such women, you never knew where, or with whom, they had been.
The Ah Yi kept her eyes averted when she reached down to grab the boy’s hand. It was only as she pulled him away that she noticed the feet. The woman wasn’t wearing shoes. How strange in this weather. The woman’s legs were also covered in thin red stripes, looking as though they were weeping.
She pulled the boy to her. She could see all of the woman now. She noticed the blue eyes first, strange eyes that looked as if they couldn’t see. She saw the deep red gash of the woman’s throat and the red soup that had flowed all over the woman’s dress.
It was only then that she screamed.
***
He watched the Ah Yi screaming from the undergrowth. People came running from across the park. Soon, there was a crowd surrounding the body. Her beautiful body, how he would miss her. But he had to leave her here for them to see. They had to be able to see his work, otherwise how will they know what to do? How will they know they have to change?
The cops arrived quickly. Keystone cops, running around here and there like a pack of demented mice. He loved to watch their stupidity. Trampling the ground around the beautiful body, despoiling his tableau. One of them even had the temerity to go up and touch her on the side of the head. Of course, she fell over to lie down on the bench.
How dare they? How dare they disturb her repose? Why didn’t they just leave her as he had placed her? Idiots! All idiots!
He would have to show them even more. He knew who his next lesson would be. He would show them the errors of their ways. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t see yet. But they would soon, of that he was sure.
Eventually, he would have to judge them all. Or at least, all of them who had lied, cheated or stolen. Maybe he would spare the children. The pure, unadulterated children. Not those who had already been maculated by the touch of this society.
There were so many still to judge. But at least he liked his work. He didn’t know whether he was supposed to take pleasure in it. The writings said nothing about pleasure, just about judgement.
Elsie had been tougher than he thought. He must remember not to underestimate the will to live. An extremely strong instinct. A primeval instinct, the will to survive. He had survived, lying out there in no man’s land, surrounded by rats and mud and death. He had survived, but the rest had not. They had been judged and found wanting. They had lied and cheated, but he had been pure. That’s why he had survived.
Over the years since then, he knew what he needed to do. But it had only become clear when he came to China. It was only here that he understood the rightness of his cause. It was only here he knew the Chinese had been practising his justice for millennia. Here, he had come alive like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. Now, he acted just as he was meant to act. Just as he was guided to act.
He knew who would be next.
***
A small man with a thin, caterpillar moustache stood in front of Sergeant Wolfe’s desk. ‘I’m the interpreter, Mr Huang. You rang for me?’
‘We’ve got a strange one.’ The sergeant pointed to the Giant standing in the corner, examining one of the pockets of his threadbare clothes. ‘Can’t understand a word he says. Thought he might be one of the river people.’
The interpreter began speaking a dialect to the Giant, all sibilant esses and long, slithering sounds. The man replied quickly, again going through his pantomime of pointing and gesturing.
‘You were correct, he’s from the river. His boat is moored at Soochow Creek,’ said the interpreter.
‘Ask him why he’s here.’
The interpreter spoke a few words and received a lengthy speech in return, complete with pointing, waving and a peculiar demonstration of something. Sergeant Wolfe scratched his head.
‘A voluble people, the river dwellers. Storytellers all of them,’ said the interpreter shrugging his shoulders. ‘We could be here a long time.’
‘Tell him to get on with it, I haven’t got all day.’
Once again, the interpreter spoke only a few words to the Giant. This time, the answer still had all the previous gestures and pointing but was considerably shorter. Meanwhile a newcomer entered the reception area and noticed the desk sergeant.
‘Hello, Jim, you seem to be busy today.’
‘George Cartwright. Long time, no see. I thought you’d be skiving off somewhere this time of day. Isn’t it time for your afternoon refreshment?’
‘Funny man, you are. I’d never do that on duty, would I?’ Cartwright stared down at the small interpreter and up to the ragged Giant standing beside him. ‘What you got here then?’
The interpreter took his chance to speak. ‘The man here said it’s about the body, yesterday. The police were asking if anybody saw anything.’
‘Which body?’ asked Cartwright.
‘The one in Soochow Creek. The man wants to see Detective Strallan or something like that.’
‘Probably Strachan, him and Danilov are handling that case.’ Sergeant Wolfe turned to the interpreter. ‘They’re not here now. Ask him to come back later.’
‘Don’t worry, Jim. I said I’d help out on that case. Do you have a room where we can talk quietly?’
‘Take that one, George. Thanks for this, I’ve enough on my plate already with this little lot.’ He indicated the crowd of people who were waiting to see him.
‘You owe me one, Jim. A large one with a splash of water in it.’ Cartwright pointed at the Giant and the interpreter. ‘Come this way and have a chat with Uncle George.’ He winked at Sergeant Wolfe and led them to the interview room.
After they were seated, Cartwright got right down to business. ‘Now then, what’s all this about?’ He had made sure there was as much distance as possible in the confines of the room between himself and the Giant. He’d heard stories in the bars of the terrible diseases some of the river people carried. It was enough to make your toes curl. Better have a few stiff ones after this, just in case.
The Giant kept shifting around on the wooden police chair, obviously unused to sitting on such a hard seat. He turned this way and that, finding some semblance of comfort by putting his right leg up on the chair, jammed against the haunch of his bottom.
A dirty toenail stared right at Cartwright. He tried to look away but kept being dragged back to its hard yellow cap with a thick layer of black beneath. ‘Ask him what he wants,’ he stammered, finally dragging his eyes from the foot and its webbed toes.
The interpreter, who was also sitting as far away from the Giant as he could, let forth a slither of sounds.
The Giant began to reply slowly, gradually gaining pace and expression as he became more involved with his tale.
The interpreter kept up a running commentary. ‘He had got up early that morning…to catch Lei Man…it’s a small river fish…lives in the mud…used in congee…he sells them to the restaurants on Foochow Street…gets a good price…’
‘He just needs to say what happened, not give his bloody life story.’
The interpreter rapped out another trilling song of dialect. He tapped on the table for effect at the end of his speech. The Giant began to speak again, this time more slowly and precisely.
The interpreter continued, ‘…he
was just washing the bow of his boat when he saw two men rowing out to the sandbar.’
‘He was certain it was two men?’
The interpreter asked and a sing-song reply came back from the Giant which even Cartwright recognised was an affirmative.
‘What did the men look like?’
‘He couldn’t see their faces…one was tall and the other was short.’ The Giant used his hands to show the difference in height. ‘The tall one was nearly as tall as him.’
‘How does he know?’
The interpreter asked the question and immediately began translating the answer. ‘Because when they reached the “Beach of Dead Babies” – I think that’s what he called it – when they reached there, the two men stood up in the boat.’
Cartwright was about to ask another question when the interpreter reached across and touched him on his hand. He pulled it away immediately, taking out his large white handkerchief to wipe the spot where he had been touched.
The interpreter carried on anyway. ‘They took something quite large from inside the boat which they threw over the side onto the beach…he thought they were just dumping some rubbish.’
‘At that time in the morning?’
This time the interpreter answered the question without referring to the Giant. ‘On the river, you don’t ask many questions, so nobody tells you any lies.’
The Giant started speaking again. The interpreter translated, ‘…they spent about two minutes over at the beach, leaning out from the boat, arranging their parcel.’
‘He didn’t ask them what they were doing?’
The interpreter’s eyes fluttered to the ceiling. ‘These people don’t. None of their business what anybody else does. They value their lives.’
The Giant carried on.
‘…he says they rowed back to the bank and got into a big car. The bald-headed man drove and the tall one sat in the back.’
‘Bald-headed?’
The interpreter and the Giant demonstrated with his hands. ‘He says the man’s head was totally bald, like a winter melon except his head was pink not green.’ The Giant laughed and both shoulders lifted almost to his ears as he did so. When he had finished, he carried on talking. ‘He then went out with his net just below Garden Bridge to fish for Lei Man. When he came back two hours later, the police were everywhere.’
