Murder at the Peking Opera

by Amanda Roberts

  “They are my only children,” Lady Li said. “I hate any reminders that they are growing up. It’s happening far too quickly.”

  “You can’t stop the future from coming,” Wangshu said. “All you can do is prepare for it.”

  “How did you get to be so wise?” Lady Li asked, playfully slapping Wangshu’s arm.

  Wangshu laughed. “No one ever accused me of being wise before.”

  “Well, running away right now would be quite stupid,” Lady Li said. “You must stay. You must trust me. If for some reason the inspector doesn’t find the real killer, you still needn’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  Wangshu sighed, and they squeezed each other’s hands. “So what do we do next?”

  “The inspector is on his way here,” Lady Li said. “Hopefully he will have an idea. But he will have some hard questions for you.”

  “Like what?” Wangshu asked, wringing her hands like she was a little nervous.

  “Like why you’ve been lying about your relationship with Fanhua,” the inspector said as he entered the room.

  Lady Li stood up and walked to the door. “Where is Eunuch Bai?” she asked. “Why didn’t he announce you?”

  “He doesn’t know I’m here,” he said. “The good doctor let me in on his way out. He said Swan is resting. Maybe Eunuch Bai is tending to her.”

  Lady Li hmphed in annoyance. “You still shouldn’t admit yourself,” she mumbled.

  Wangshu had turned away, standing there silently, perhaps hoping Inspector Gong would forget the question he had asked her. But she was out of luck.

  “Well?” the inspector said, crossing his arms and waiting for an answer.

  “What makes you think I was lying?” she asked. “We were friendly. I wouldn’t kill him.”

  “You weren’t that friendly,” he said. “Fanhua resenting you for taking his place, for forcing him to act like a man. And if you weren’t one of his paying admirers, he wouldn’t have taken you for a lover.”

  “Paying admirers?” Wangshu asked. “What are you saying?”

  “Fanhua was prostituting himself,” Lady Li said. “He preferred men but would show affection to the female patrons for a fee.”

  “That’s terrible,” Wangshu said, slipping into a nearby chair. “I had no idea…”

  “No idea that Fanhua was a cut sleeve?” the inspector asked. “Or that he was charging his admirers for his affections?”

  “None of it,” Wangshu admitted. “He hated me from the moment I entered the theater. But I was afraid you would think I killed him if you knew that. I didn’t really know anything about his life.”

  Inspector Gong walked over and handed the ledger to Wangshu. “Do you know any of these women?”

  Wangshu opened the book and looked the pages over. “Is this…what he was charging…goodness me.”

  “Do you see something odd?” Lady Li asked.

  “No,” Wangshu said. “I just should have known. This type of lifestyle is common among actors. Many people would pay good money to live out a fantasy. I’m just surprised he was charging so little. He was so popular.”

  “I think he may have been blackmailing some of those girls to get more money out of them,” the inspector said. “What do you think?”

  “It’s possible,” she said, handing the book back. “But I don’t know for certain. Those women hated me even more than Fanhua did.”

  “Hated you enough to frame you for Fanhua’s murder?” the inspector asked.

  Wangshu shook her head in disbelief. “But they loved him, didn’t they? Why would they use me to kill him?”

  “Maybe one of these girls hated him enough to want him dead,” Lady Li said, “but loved him too much to do the job herself.”

  “It’s just so crazy,” Wangshu said.

  “I’ve never known a murderer to be completely sane,” the inspector said.

  “So what do we do now?” Lady Li asked. “How do we find out which woman was the killer?”

  “Changpu wants the next performance go on as planned,” the inspector said. “He hired Hungjian to take the role of the wusheng. And he wants Wangshu to return to play the dan one more time.”

  Wangshu stood up and paced. “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head and wringing her hands. “I…I can’t go back there. That…that’s the real reason I left. Every time I looked at that stage, I felt so sick. I can still feel…feel the way the sword went into Fanhua’s stomach…” She collapsed back into her chair, her face blanched. Lady Li ran to her side, afraid she was going to faint. She could feel Wangshu trembling.

  “Inspector,” Lady Li said. “We can’t make her go back.”

  “But the killer could return,” he said. “When she finds out that Wangshu wasn’t arrested for the crime, she could come back and finish the job.”

  “You want to use me as bait?” Wangshu asked. “What if the crazy girl kills me?”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” the inspector said.

  Wangshu let out a despondent wail. “How could you?” she cried. “Am I not a person? Don’t I matter just as much as Fanhua?”

  “Of course, you do,” Lady Li said, patting Wangshu’s hand and shooting a look at Inspector Gong. “I’m sure we can think of another plan.”

  “I suppose we could just say Wangshu is going to be there,” he said. “And hope the killer makes her appearance.”

  “But if Wangshu isn’t there, why would the killer come out of hiding?” Lady Li asked. “No, your plan to use someone as bait is a good one. But we can’t use Wangshu.”

  “Well, who do you—” the inspector started to ask, but then he cut himself off when he saw the determined look on Lady Li’s face. “No. No, you are not going to try to lure a murderer to kill you.”

  “Why not?” Lady Li asked. “If it was a good enough plan for Wangshu it’s a good enough plan for me. And you’ll be there to protect me, won’t you?”

  “But you don’t look anything like me,” Wangshu said. “And you can’t sing.”

  “I won’t really be singing. If the murderer appears, the farce won’t need to continue. And if she doesn’t appear, I’ll just have Changpu announce that Wangshu took ill or something. As for what I look like, don’t opera performers wear masks?” Lady Li asked. “I can wear a mask.”

  “Ugh,” Wangshu groaned. “I thought you knew a thing or two about opera. I’m not a face-changer or eighty years old. I paint my face. Only older performers used masks.”

  “Still,” Lady Li said. “I can just wear a mask to enter the enter the theater. It will be good enough to convince the crowd outside that Wangshu is there.”

  “But I don’t have a mask,” Wangshu said. “Most opera performers would have sold them or traded them away years ago.”

  “What about one of Hungjian’s masks?” the inspector asked. “We could borrow one of those.”

  “They don’t look anything like Peking opera faces,” Wangshu explained. “And they are made of fabric, not wood. Anyone watching would immediately know something was going on. No, you’d have to wear a Peking opera mask, but I don’t have any.”

  Lady Li smiled. “You said many of the masks have been sold. In that case, I think I know where I might find one.”

  * * *

  “This is surely one of the most beautiful homes I have seen here in the city,” the American said in his distinct southern drawl as he walked through the courtyard.

  “Mr. Big,” Lady Li said as she walked over to him and shook his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Well, of course, darlin’,” he said. “I could not resist an invitation from the mysterious Lady Li. I had a suspicion that you were better than you let on when you tried to pass as a maid in the legation, but I had no idea you were this well off.”

  Lady Li smiled. She spoke fairly good English but still found some of Mr. Big’s colloquialisms confusing. Inspector Gong stood nearby, but since he didn’t speak English at all he stayed quiet.

  “Di
d you bring the items I asked for?” Lady Li asked.

  “Oh yes,” he said opening his case. “You are lucky I had a few in stock. These normally sell like hotcakes to the foreign traders.” He pulled out several masks, all painted in blue, green, and yellow, but they were all masculine characters.

  “Oh dear,” Lady Li said, looking them over. “Do you have any of female characters?”

  “Those are quite rare,” Mr. Big said. “Peking Opera simply doesn’t have many female characters, which is a shame. Their faces and costumes are so exquisite. But you are in luck that I do happen to have one.”

  He pulled out a mask painted white with pink eyelids and long thin eyebrows. It was combined with an elaborate headdress designed like a blue peacock. It had most likely been designed for an empress or princess character.

  “It’s incredible,” Lady Li said. “And exactly what I need.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Mr. Big said. “Anything you need, you just let me know. I am your humble servant.”

  Lady Li waved Eunuch Bai over. “Eunuch Bai is the head of my household,” Lady Li explained. “He doesn’t speak much English, but he handles my accounts. He will make sure you are paid.”

  Eunuch Bai started to give Mr. Big a bow, but Mr. Big reached out and took one of Eunuch’s Bai’s hands and shook it.

  “Such an honor to meet you, sir,” Mr. Big said while Lady Li translated. “I have never met a real eunuch before. I heard they only serve in the Forbidden City, a place I am certainly forbidden to ever enter.” He laughed at his own joke even though it didn’t exactly translate to Chinese.

  “The empress was kind enough to allow me to take Eunuch Bai with me when I left the palace,” Lady Li told Mr. Big.

  “You actually know the empress?” Mr. Big asked, his mouth agape. Lady Li gave a small smile and nod. “Oh honey, you and I need a have a long chat at some point. My sisters would just die if they found out I know a real Chinese princess!”

  “I’m not a princess—” Lady Li tried to say, but Mr. Big cut her off with a wave of his hand.

  “The details don’t really matter.” He returned to Eunuch Bai. “And the stories I bet you could tell me. We must find a way to communicate…”

  19

  Lady Li ran her fingers over the sequins of her elaborate opera costume. She had never worn anything so heavy before, not even her wedding gown. Her headdress jingled as her chair-bearers carried her through town and toward the White Lotus Theater. She breathed slowly in and out to calm her nerves. Even though Inspector Gong and his men would be at the theater, she couldn’t help but be nervous. She was planning on meeting a murderer tonight.

  As they got closer to the theater, the sound of raised voices grew louder. When the chair-bearers stopped and placed the sedan chair on the ground, the voices exploded into a torrent of anger.

  “Kill the whore!” a man yelled.

  “Justice for Fanhua!” a woman cried.

  The chair rocked as though someone had pushed it, and Lady Li yelped. What was happening out there? She was about to tell her men to take her back home when someone opened the door flap.

  Inspector Gong stuck his head inside. “We better get inside before things get out of control,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

  “Before they get out of control?” she asked, but she took a gulp and grabbed his hand.

  He helped pull her from her seat and out onto the street. She was shocked to see dozens of people outside yelling and shaking their fists at her. Inspector Gong wrapped his arm around her and helped usher her toward the door where one of his men was standing guard.

  Someone threw something that hit Lady Li in the back of the head. She ducked as she cried out. She glanced down at her feet and saw an apple rolling across the ground. Several people laughed at her while others continued with their angry jeers.

  It was a good thing Wangshu did not return to the theater. It was terrifying. The people were either angry at her for performing on stage or for killing Fanhua. The fact that what she was doing was completely legal or that she had not been charged for Fanhua’s death didn’t matter to these people. They were simply out for blood.

  When they were finally inside the theater, Lady Li was surprised she didn’t feel more relief. Theater-goers who had purchased tickets were already inside, and they immediately started staring at her and murmuring.

  “I need to go back outside and help get the crowd under control,” Inspector Gong said.

  Lady Li gripped his arm. “Wait,” she said, her voice muffled behind the mask. “You can’t leave me. What about the…you know…”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be back soon. Some of my men are here inside the theater as well. As is Prince Kung.” He looked up at the balcony and waved. Her eyes followed and she saw the prince sitting next to his wife waving back at her. She raised her hand back at him. Did he know she was Lady Li? Or did he think she was really Wangshu? For some reason, having the prince there almost made her more nervous.

  “You’ll be safe in your dressing room,” the inspector said before she could ask what the prince knew. “I’ll join you there soon.” With that, he quickly slipped back outside.

  Lady Li turned back around. Her stomach a bundle of nerves. She couldn’t move.

  Then, she heard clapping from the balcony. She looked up and saw that the prince—along with his wife and the rest of the guests in his box—was clapping for her. The rest of the theater-goers followed suit, clapping and smiling at her.

  She wasn’t sure why. Just to be encouraging? Proud that she had dared to return for a second performance? She had no idea, and she didn’t have time to think about it. The play would be starting soon. She gave everyone a small bow and then walked down the aisle toward her dressing room.

  Once in the dressing room, she closed the door and paced. Wangshu’s character of Xueyan did not appear for the first few scenes, so the patrons would get to see at least some of the opera before Lady Li would have to feint illness and Changpu would have to cancel the rest of the show. If he canceled it. It was not unheard of for actors to simply work around surprises to their show in order to keep a performance going.

  The plan was for Lady Li to stay in the dressing room, and whoever tried to break in must be the killer. Inspector Gong would then rush over and grab whoever it was and get a confession out of her. Or possibly him. They still didn’t really know who they were looking for, or if the villain would even appear, but they didn’t have a better plan at this point.

  Lady Li closed the door, but she wasn’t able to lock it because she didn’t have a key. Her heart beat fast in her chest. She willed herself to calm down as she searched the room for some way to bolt the door. As she rifled through a crate of props, she heard the door squeak open behind her.

  “Baoah?” Lady Li said as she turned and faced the girl who entered the room.

  “Wangshu,” Baoah replied, stepping into the room.

  Lady Li realized that Baoah did not recognize her voice from behind the mask. Was Baoah the killer? She never would have imagined…But her name had been in the ledger they found. It was possible…

  “I’m surprised you returned after what happened,” Baoah said.

  Changpu’s powerful voice rang out and drifted into the room as the show began.

  “The theater is my life,” Lady Li said in her best imitation of Wangshu’s voice.

  “It’s my life,” Baoah growled. “It was Fanhua’s life. You ruined everything!”

  “I…I don’t know what you mean…” Lady Li said, growing worried. Where was Inspector Gong?

  “Fanhua loved me,” Baoah said.

  “But…you were paying for that love,” Lady Li foolishly said. She should have just let Baoah say and think whatever she wanted.

  “Everyone has to earn a living,” Baoah said. “And one day he would earn enough to run away from this place.”

  But not with you, Lady Li thought to herself. So Fanhua had let Baoah think tha
t he was saving money to leave the theater for her, not Hungjian. But what went wrong?

  “Then why kill him?” Lady Li asked.

  “Because you ruined his life,” Baoah said. “He couldn’t live with himself playing a man. He hated what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Didn’t you see how despondent he was? How miserable? That’s why he played the general so badly. He hated the role. He hated himself. I saw his face, the tears, when he looked at himself in the mirror during rehearsal.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lady Li said. So Baoah had also been backstage on the day of the murder. That must have been when she switched the sword. “I was only doing what I was ordered to do—”

  “Liar!” Baoah said, stepping closer.

  Lady Li shrunk back. She looked around, trying to find a way past Baoah and into the hallway, but in the small room her options were limited.

  “You love performing,” Baoah said. “Being on the stage. Parading yourself like a whore. You didn’t give a damn about Fanhua!”

  Lady Li didn’t reply. There was no point in trying to correct Baoah’s beliefs. She had concocted a story in her head and there was no changing it.

  “He had to get out of here,” Baoah continued. “He had to leave the theater. But he needed money.”

  “So that’s why he started blackmailing you,” Lady Li said. “Instead of planning to leave in the distant future, he wanted to escape now, so he blackmailed you for money.”

  “You figured it out,” Baoah said. “How?”

  “I found his ledger,” Lady Li said. “He kept a record of all the women he was sleeping with and the money they were paying him.”

  “What?” Baoah screeched. “Where is it? Give it to me!”

  “I can’t,” Lady Li said. “That inspector has it.”

  Baoah gasped. “I’ll be ruined!” she cried. “How could you do this to me?”

  “Me?” Lady Li asked. “You did this to yourself! You gave away your virtue, your reputation. This is all on you.”

  “What do you know about it?” Baoah cried, tears streaming down her face. “You’re just some worthless opera singer. No one cares about locking you away your whole life. Keeping you in a box like a precious pearl. You have no idea what it is like to live your life in a prison.”