The Case of the Chinese Boxes Page 13

  Brian looked at me with eyebrows raised, more a query than surprise.

  ‘The client was more trouble than the case.’

  ‘Well, you won’t be needing these then.’ He’d called my bluff.

  I picked up the box of letters and put them under my chair, between my feet.

  ‘I did say discretion guaranteed. Don’t want these doing the rounds of your office.’

  ‘Is there anyone you trust?’

  ‘Trust you. Don’t trust your gossip columnists who might like to get their grubby little hands on them.’

  ‘Why? Are you rich and famous?’

  I laughed. ‘The only way I’d get rich and famous is to rob a bank.’

  I surprised myself. I knew how to do it now. If I had a few people on the team who knew about lift circuitry and thermolancing. Maybe I could do a Tech course.

  ‘Let me know when you do, I’d like to be first cab off the rank.’

  ‘Of course, Brian.’

  ‘Well then,’ he was already standing up and buttoning his jacket. ‘I’d better get back in there and see who the crims are shooting.’

  I picked up the box of letters and walked out with him.

  ‘Any more lonely letters come in, I’ll send them your way. I don’t believe trouble with the client will stop you finishing what you started.’ We stopped at the Daimler. ‘How do you do it? There’s never a parking spot when I want one.’

  ‘Don’t you watch TV? Private investigators always get a parking spot. Right outside the door.’

  ‘See you round the traps, Claudia.’

  The heat had stopped being stifling and was now merely monotonous. I got another bottle of Cascade from Jack and went upstairs. There were no nasty surprises waiting for me. Except Mrs Chen, on the Ansafone. She wanted me to contact her urgently. I put on Vince Jones and wondered how many times you had to play a tape before it wore out. Vince started crooning and I started going through my mail.

  There was something impressive about getting all these letters at once. Till I started reading them. About thirty per cent were obscene and another thirty were boring. Lots of them were addressed to the Dragon Lady and signed St George. Very imaginative.

  At the end of the first side of Vince I’d ploughed through at least seventy of them. Lots of pieces of straw in the haystack but no needles. I thought about what Collier had said, about them keeping quiet and not getting too cocky. But you’d want to tell someone. I was banking on that. And I hoped that someone was going to be me.

  By the eighty-fifth letter I was still clutching at straws. I turned the tape back over but before it started playing the phone rang.

  Steve. He had some results on the phone tap. There was one problem—it was in Chinese. But Steve said it sounded like quite a heated conversation. For Mrs Chen to sound heated the earth must have caved in.

  ‘Can you bring them over tonight? We’ll get Lucy to have a listen.’

  Steve asked me if I wanted to continue with the tap. Off the case? Like hell I was. ‘Yes.’

  I went back to sifting through the letters. With letter ninety-two I struck gold.

  Dear Dragon Lady,

  A Happy New Year to you. Our little party did go off with a bang and was extremely rewarding. I am the person you describe in your ad. Fit, intelligent, with an explosive personality. It would be my pleasure to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Be at St Mary’s Cathedral, 3.15 p.m., 21 Feb. The confessional. I like single girls. If you are accompanied in any way there will be no meeting.

  Yours in fellowship

  Father John

  I moved from the floor onto the bed. The letter had no particular distinguishing marks. It was laser printed on an A4 sheet, an ordinary quality you could buy by the ream. There were no spelling mistakes and nothing idiosyncratic, except the ‘Father John’.

  Now I got suspicious. Why had he replied? I told myself not to be so cynical; this was, after all, what I wanted. Maybe I could do something for him. Maybe, like me, it was sheer curiosity.

  My first day off the case had produced more than all the days I’d spent on it. My chickens were coming home to roost. I felt quite pleased with myself. Tonight Lucy and Steve were coming over. We’d have a little party.

  I went down to the shops to buy some party food.

  ‘What a coincidence.’

  It wasn’t a coincidence, it was James Ho.

  I sat on a stool with my shopping and asked Jack for a Corona. He opened it and stuck in a wedge of lemon. He’d never drink beer with lemon in it himself but he knew the trends and kept up with them. So did I. Selectively. You were never going to get me into a pair of those baggy shorts that were such a hit with every man, woman and child this summer.

  ‘I heard you were at the gallery today.’

  ‘News travels fast.’

  ‘You wanted to make a purchase or just perusing?’

  I wondered which of his women had told him; the girl at the gallery or the high-class prostitute. She certainly got around. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was more than just a little bit curious.

  ‘How come that key you gave me was a lemon?’

  ‘A lemon?’

  ‘Oh come on, you were educated at Oxford, you know what a lemon is.’

  ‘Would you like to sit down?’ he enquired.

  ‘I am sitting.’

  ‘Not on a barstool. At a table. Where it’s quieter.’

  Jack gave me a passing glance as we walked away. He liked to keep his eye on things.

  ‘OK, so tell me a story about the key.’

  ‘It was time to give things a nudge,’ he said simply. ‘I wanted some action.’

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I got some. My room was ransacked over that key.’

  He looked surprised.

  ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know. You seem to know everything else.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your room. I expected you to give Mrs Chen the key.’

  ‘Why did you give it to me in the first place? Why didn’t you give it to her yourself?’

  ‘You were employed to find the key. The key is your business.’

  ‘And what’s yours?’

  ‘Mine is to find a set of boxes.’

  ‘And whoever’s got them is just going to hand them over to you?’

  He smiled a winning smile. ‘I don’t expect it to be easy but I am prepared for that contingency. But first I have to ascertain whether the boxes contain holy relics.’

  ‘And how are you going to do that?’

  ‘By opening them.’

  ‘And for that you need the key.’

  ‘Would you like another drink?’ he grinned.

  I said no. I didn’t want him leaving the table before I had a few more answers.

  ‘Those boxes you showed me at the gallery didn’t have keyholes.’

  ‘And it took you only two visits to notice. You’re very good, Ms Valentine.’

  I tried to look unruffled. Not an easy job with clenched teeth. I was in no mood for sarcasm. This was not the first time the bastard had got the better of me.

  ‘Why don’t you just try jemmying them open?’

  ‘If they are what I think they are I don’t want to damage them. Besides,’ he said, lowering his already lowered voice, ‘it may be very dangerous if they are not opened in the correct way.’

  ‘Dragon breath going to come out and spread all over the palace, is it?’

  ‘Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Ms Valentine.’

  ‘You’ve never complained before.’ I took the wedge of lemon out of the Corona and sucked it. I liked the tart bitter taste. ‘Do you know where the boxes are?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Do you know who has them?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  I put the sucked-out lemon in the ashtray and licked my lips. ‘OK, let’s try some yes and no answers. The people who have the boxes, are they putting pressure on Mrs Chen?’

  ‘Yes.’
/>
  ‘For the key?’

  He didn’t have to tell me the answer to that.

  ‘Why didn’t Mrs Chen tell them the key was now out of reach? That it had gone in that bank robbery?’

  ‘She is a very proud woman, as you have probably noticed. She would not like her enemies to think she was without her symbol of power. Besides,’ he said, moving close to whisper in my ear, ‘they had an ace that would make Mrs Chen show her hand.’

  ‘Which is?’

  He moved away quickly.

  ‘Ah, good evening, Mr Angell.’

  I turned around. Lucy and Steve were standing there. Steve with a bag full of equipment and looking none too happy.

  ‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘Time for me to go,’ said Ho. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  Steve watched him all the way to the door. His face resembled a thunderstorm.

  ‘Drinks?’ I suggested brightly, trying to steer him into fair weather.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Steve, ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘What was that all about?’ he said when we got to the bar.

  ‘Just business.’

  ‘Always is, isn’t it?’

  We returned to the safety of a third party—Lucy.

  ‘He’s the guy from Darling Harbour, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said briefly. The less said about him at the moment the better.

  ‘Mmm, even better close up, don’t you think?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘I see,’ said Lucy, seeing something entirely different.

  You could have cut the air with a knife.

  ‘Well,’ I said gaily, ‘why don’t we go upstairs and have a party? Got some edibles here and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.’ I was looking at Steve. He is rather partial to a drop of the widow. We’d spent our first night together with her. He forced a smile. It was going to be some party.

  The edibles were all things you could just pop into your mouth—little curried pastries, sushi, carrot and celery sticks, slices of brie with sundried tomato wrapped in a basil leaf. This was Balmain after all.

  Steve set up his tapes and we settled in to listen.

  The first call was to Mrs Chen from the restaurant, telling her that I’d rung. The next one was mine to the house. I’d never heard my voice taped like that. A bit sibilant, but not too bad.

  My own phone rang. We stopped the tape. It was Mrs Chen herself.

  Steve stopped eating the brie and Lucy stopped eating the carrot sticks.

  Mrs Chen started off with an apology, almost choking on the words, then asked if we could meet at the restaurant. Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I said I’d think about it.

  ‘Well,’ I said, after I’d hung up, ‘let’s keep this show rolling.’

  Steve wiped his hands on his jeans and turned the tape back on. It was Mrs Chen’s voice and a rather unpleasant male voice on the other end. Then a child’s voice and Mrs Chen. Lucy was scribbling on her pad, an intent look on her face.

  ‘Play it again, Steve,’ she said.

  He played it again.

  ‘OK,’ said Lucy, ‘got it.’

  Child: When are you going to come and visit?

  Mrs Chen: Soon, Alice, soon. What are you doing?

  Child: I’m doing drawing but I don’t like it here. All they give me to eat is yukky noodles.

  Man’s voice: She will be eating noodles till you hand over the key.

  Click. End of conversation.

  But what I’d heard I found extremely interesting.

  ‘Who’s the child? A relative?’

  Lucy shrugged her shoulders. ‘She’s got a few nieces. Don’t know their names. I managed to avoid the intricacies of that generation of Chens.’

  There was one more call, from Charles at the restaurant, to his mother at home. Lucy had a couple of goes at this one.

  It was about me. Charles was telling his mother she had behaved like a one-legged monkey, that if she didn’t want to go to the police, I was the only one who could help them. She said she would ask Kuan Yin for guidance.

  End of tape.

  The food was nearly all gone and so was the champagne. But it hadn’t done the trick.

  ‘Well, I’m off.’ Lucy got up. ‘It has been most entertaining. Let me know any further developments. And let me know if Cute Bum shows up again,’ she added, giving me a nudge.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Steve.

  ‘Steve?’ My voice was full of question marks.

  ‘I’ll wait downstairs,’ said Lucy, ducking out.

  ‘Aren’t you staying?’ I asked, when Lucy had made herself scarce.

  ‘Oh, you can slot me in this evening, can you? Well I’m sorry I’ve made other plans.’ He didn’t sound like he was sorry at all. ‘I’m going to the Toucan Tango with Lucy.’

  ‘But you don’t like dancing,’ I said, taken aback.

  ‘I can always learn. I’m sure Lucy will make an excellent teacher. At least she’s not so caught up with “business associates” as you seem to be. You do whatever you want to do, you see whoever you want to see, but as soon as you snap your fingers everyone has to jump. Well this time, Claudia, I’m not jumping.’

  He slammed the door and was gone. I could feel my cheeks burning and my eyes brimming.

  I was alone in my room again and this time I didn’t particularly like it. Expecting everyone to fit into the slot I’d allocated them. Did I? What do you want me to do, Steve, sit sweetly on a cushion and bat my eyelids?

  It was Ho, James Ho, who’d triggered off this outburst. Why did I feel so guilty?

  I finished off the champagne and crawled into bed. Things would look better in the morning.

  There was a girl’s face in the window, calling out to me. I had to go back for her but my legs wouldn’t move. There were iron bars, her hands reached out, imploring me. It was Amy, my loved one. I tried and tried to run but I couldn’t get back to her.

  I woke up, the pillows wet with sweat. It was 3 a.m. I got up and washed my face. Walked out onto the balcony. The street below was quiet. Somewhere out there in the city Steve slept. If he wasn’t still dancing with Lucy.

  I stood there taking long slow breaths till my thoughts had calmed down. Three o’clock. I had remembered the time. It was the time I’d arranged to meet Mrs Chen. It was an appointment I was going to keep.

  It was a cool grey day and the waters of Darling Harbour were greenish. There was no entertainment in Tumbalong Park and I wasn’t followed. I walked on into Chinatown. Into the Red Dragon, straight up the stairs. No-one attempted to stop me.

  Mrs Chen was sitting in her private office smoking a cigarette. Long, elegant and shaking in her hand. A pot of coffee stood waiting. I waved it away when she offered me some. She stood up and walked around the room a little. Went to the window and looked out. She came back and ashed an extremely long ash. She stubbed the cigarette out and it sat at a right angle in the ashtray. There were a few other butts in there as well, also half-smoked, also at right angles. She drew a breath and looked me in the eye.

  ‘First I must apologise if my behaviour towards you has appeared less than . . . civilised.’

  That was putting it mildly, but it was not the moment to say so.

  ‘Mrs Chen,’ I said softly, ‘who’s Alice?’

  She put her hand to her forehead and massaged it.

  ‘Alice is my granddaughter. Yes,’ she said, seeing my reaction. ‘Charles’ daughter.’ She lit another long elegant cigarette.

  ‘Some years ago my son had a . . . liaison with a woman.’ She cleared her throat. ‘A prostitute. She blackmailed the family with the child. Normally I would not deal with a woman of her . . . position, but there was Alice. Perhaps I was foolish, I fell in love with the child. And I bought her. Gave the mother a substantial sum of money on the condition that she leave the country and never attempt to contact the child.’

  ‘And now she has.’

  Mrs Ch
en’s brow furrowed. ‘No, I do not think this is the case. I think others . . . Alice has been kidnapped.’ That word was the trigger. Victoria Chen flopped back on the sofa. Tears started to work their way down her cheeks. When she’d had that first phone call she may have cried in shuddering sobs but now they were reduced to a thin steady stream.

  ‘It is worse than death. To know the child is with strangers. Who may not treat her kindly. Who may kill her. It is like being in a box, a box just slightly bigger than your body, perhaps a coffin, with knives sticking out of the walls. You must move so little, so carefully. Any sudden movement and . . . ’

  She didn’t have to go on. I knew already how it felt. My dream of Amy and my inability to move, how I would have cut my heart out if that would have saved her.

  I was careful not to go to Mrs Chen and put a comforting arm around her. She did not invite that sort of contact.

  ‘Who’s got her, Mrs Chen?’

  ‘Members of the Sun Yee On Tong. A Triad group.’

  This was the most informative Mrs Chen had been throughout our acquaintanceship. I sat silent, waiting for her to continue.

  ‘You are probably aware that the ethnic Chinese community in Australia is changing. Many new elements have entered the flow of newcomers to this country. And this country takes the bad with the good. Screening procedures are not very efficient.’

  She paused. I took up the slack.

  ‘Why are the Triads trying to get at you?’

  ‘The Chen family is influential. We have the respect of the people, we do welfare work for the community, we do not turn away any reasonable request. Obviously, a powerful family attracts those who wish to grab some of that power rather than earning it.’

  ‘Why are they holding Alice?’

  ‘Her life in exchange for the key.’

  ‘I think I know where Alice is,’ I said. ‘At the temple in Glebe.’

  Mrs Chen sighed. ‘She was at the temple. Sifu was looking after her, and Amah, her nanny. They were already threatening me. Alice is my jewel. I hid her there as a safety precaution till you found the key.’

  Mrs Chen started pacing again. She came back to the table, lit another cigarette, and expelled a jet of smoke.

  ‘Alice was forcibly taken from the temple on Sunday night. I don’t know how they discovered where she was. Perhaps you do, Miss Valentine. I believe you visited the temple that day.’