Judge Dee At Work Read online

  Judge Dee At Work

  Eight Judge Dee Detective Stories

  by

  Robert Van Gulik

  Scribner

  JUDGE DEE

  Foreword

  These eight stories, featuring the master-detective of Ancient China and his assistants Ma Joong, Sergeant Hoong and Chiao Tai, cover a decade during which the judge served in four different provinces of the Tang Empire. From the suspected treason of a general in the Chinese army facing the Tartar hordes on the western frontier to the murder of a lonely poet in his garden pavilion in Han-yuan, the cases presented here are among the most memorable of Judge Dee’s long and distinguished career.

  Judge Dee At Work

  1 Five Auspicious Clouds

  This case occurred in A.D. 663 when Judge Dee had been serving only a week in his first independent official post- Magistrate of Peng-lai, a remote district on the north-east coast of the Chinese Empire. Directly upon his arrival there he had been confronted with three mysterious crimes, described in my novel The Chinese Gold Murders. In that story mention was made of the flourishing shipbuilding industry of Peng-lai, and of Mr Yee Pen, the wealthy shipowner. The present story opens in Judge Dee’s private office in the tribunal, where he is in conference with Yee Pen and two other gentlemen; they have just finished discussing at length Judge Dee’s proposal for bringing the shipbuilding industry under government control.

  ‘Well, gentlemen,’ Judge Dee said with a satisfied smile to his three guests, ‘that settles it then, I think.’

  The conference in his private office had begun at about two o’clock, and now it was already past five. But he thought that the time had been well spent.

  ‘The rules we drafted seem to cover all possible contingencies,’ Mr Ho remarked in his precise voice. He was a soberly dressed, middle-aged man, a retired secretary of the Minister of Justice. Looking at Hwa Min, the wealthy shipowner on his right, he added, ‘You’ll agree, Mr Hwa, that our draft provides for an equitable settlement of your differences with your colleague Mr Yee Pen here.’

  Hwa Min made a face. ‘ “Equitable” is a nice word,’ he said dryly, ‘but as a merchant I like the word “profitable” even better! If I had been given a free hand in competing with my friend Mr Yee, the result might not have been exactly equitable, no… . But it would have been eminently profitable-for me!’

  ‘Shipbuilding affects our coastal defence,’ Judge Dee observed stiffly. ‘The Imperial Government does not allow a private monopoly. We have spent the entire afternoon on this matter and, thanks also to the excellent technical advice of Mr Ho, we have now drafted this document setting forth clearly the rules all shipowners are to follow. I shall expect both of you to keep to those rules.’

  Mr Yee Pen nodded ponderously. The judge liked this shrewd, but honest businessman. He thought less of Mr Hwa Min, who he knew was not averse to shady deals, and who often had woman-trouble. Judge Dee gave a sign to the clerk to refill the teacups, then he leaned back in his chair. It had been a hot day, but now a cool breeze had risen, wafting into the small office the scent of the magnolia tree outside the window.

  Mr Yee set his cup down and gave Ho and Hwa Min a questioning look. It was time for them to take their leave.

  Suddenly the door opened and Sergeant Hoong, Judge Dee’s trusted old adviser, came in. He stepped up to the desk and said: ‘There’s someone outside with an urgent message, Your Honour.’

  Judge Dee had caught his look. ‘Excuse me for one moment,’ he said to his three guests. He rose and followed the sergeant outside.

  When they were standing in the corridor, the sergeant told him in a low voice, ‘It’s Mr Ho’s house steward, sir. He came to report to his master that Mrs Ho has committed suicide.’

  ‘Almighty heaven!’ the judge exclaimed. ‘Tell him to wait. I’d better break this bad news to Ho myself. How did she do it?’

  ‘She hanged herself, Your Honour. In their garden pavilion, during the siesta. The steward came rushing out here at once.’

  ‘Too bad for Mr Ho. I like the fellow. A bit on the dry side, but very conscientious. And a clever jurist.’

  He sadly shook his head, then re-entered his office. After he had sat down again behind his desk, he addressed Ho gravely: ‘It was your house steward, Mr Ho. He came with shocking news. About Mrs Ho.’

  Ho grasped the armrests of his chair. ‘About my wife?’

  ‘It seems that she committed suicide, Mr Ho.’

  Mr Ho half-rose, then let himself sink back again into his chair. He said in a toneless voice, ‘So it happened, just as I feared. She … she was very depressed, these last weeks.’ He passed his hand over his eyes, then asked: ‘How … how did she do it, sir?’

  ‘Your steward reported that she hanged herself. He is waiting now to take you home, Mr Ho. I’ll send the coroner along at once, to draw up the death certificate. You will want to have the formalities over and done with as quickly as possible, of course.’

  Mr Ho did not seem to have heard him. ‘Dead!’ he muttered. ‘Only a few hours after I had left her! What shall I do?’

  ‘We’ll help you with everything of course, Mr Ho,’ Hwa Min said consolingly. He added a few words of condolence, in which Yee Pen joined. But Ho did not seem to have heard them. He was staring into space, his face drawn. Suddenly he looked up at the judge and spoke after some hesitation:

  ‘I need time, sir, a little time to … I don’t like to presume upon your kindness, sir, but … would it perhaps be possible for Your Honour to get someone to attend to the formalities on my behalf? Then I can go home after … after the autopsy, and when the dead body has been …’ He let his voice trail off, giving the judge a pleading look.

  ‘Of course, Mr Ho!’ Judge Dee replied briskly. ‘You remain here and have another cup of tea. I’ll go personally to your house with the coroner, and a temporary coffin will be prepared. It’s the least I can do. You have never grudged me your valuable advice, and today again you have devoted your entire afternoon to the business of this tribunal. No, I insist, Mr Ho! You two look after our friend, gentlemen. I’ll be back here in half an hour or so.’

  Sergeant Hoong was waiting in the courtyard, together with a small rotund man with a black goatee. Hoong presented him as Ho’s house steward. Judge Dee told him, ‘I have informed Mr Ho already; you can return now, steward. I’ll be along presently.’ He added to Sergeant Hoong, ‘You’d better go back to the chancery, Hoong, and sort out the official papers that have come in. We’ll have a look at them together after I get back. Where are my two lieutenants?’

  ‘Ma Joong and Chiao Tai are in the main courtyard, sir, putting the guards through their drill.’

  ‘Good. I need only the headman and two of his men to go to Mr Ho’s house. They’ll place the dead body in the coffin. When Ma Joong and Chiao Tai are through with the drill, they can retire. I shan’t need them tonight. Get the coroner and have my official palankeen brought out!’

  In the small front courtyard of Mr Ho’s modest residence the small, obese steward stood waiting for the judge. Two red-eyed maids were hovering near the gatehouse. The headman helped Judge Dee to alight from his palankeen. The judge ordered him to wait with the two constables in the courtyard, then told the steward to conduct him and the coroner to the pavilion.

  The small man led them along the open corridor that circled the house to an extensive garden, surrounded by a high wall. He took them down a well-kept path winding among the flowering shrubs to the farthest corner. There, in the shade of two tall oak trees, stood an octagonal pavilion, built on a round brick platform. The pointed, green-tiled roof was topped by a gilded globe, and the pillars and the intricate lattice-work of the windows were lacquered a bright red. The judge went up
the four marble steps and pulled the door open.

  It was hot in the small but high room, the pungent smell of some outlandish incense hung heavily in the close air. Judge Dee’s eyes went at once to the bamboo couch against the wall on the right. The still figure of a woman was stretched out on it. The face was turned to the wall; he saw only the thick strands of glossy hair spilling out over her shoulders. She was clad in a summer robe of white silk, her small feet were shod in white satin shoes. Turning round to the coroner, Judge Dee said:

  ‘You go ahead and examine her while I prepare the death certificate. Open the windows, steward, it is very stuffy in here.’

  The judge took an official form from his sleeve and put it ready on the side table beside the door. Then he idly surveyed the room. On the centre table of carved rosewood stood a tea-tray with two cups. The square teapot had been knocked over; it was lying with its spout half across a flat brass box. A length of red silk cord was lying next to it. Two high-backed chairs stood by the table. Except for two racks of spotted bamboo between the windows, holding books and a few small antiques, there was no other furniture. The upper half of the walls was covered with wooden tablets, inscribed with famous poems. There was an atmosphere of quiet, elegant taste.

  The steward had pushed open the last window. Now he came up to the judge and pointed to the thick, red-lacquered beams running across the dome-shaped ceiling. From the central beam dangled a red cord, its end frayed.

  ‘We found her hanging there, sir. The chambermaid and I.’

  Judge Dee nodded. ‘Was Mrs Ho depressed this morning?’

  ‘Oh no, sir, she was in high spirits at the noon meal. But when Mr Hwa Min came to visit the master, she …’

  ‘Hwa Min, you say? What did he come here for? He was going to meet Mr Ho in my office at two!’

  The steward looked embarrassed. After some hesitation he replied, ‘While I was serving tea to the two gentlemen in the reception room, sir, I couldn’t help hearing what was being said. I understand that Mr Hwa wanted my master to give Your Honour advice during the conference that would be advantageous to him. He even offered my master a substantial ah … reward. My master refused indignantly, of course… .’

  The coroner stepped up to the judge. ‘I’d like to show Your Honour something rather odd!’ he said.

  Noticing the coroner’s worried expression, Judge Dee ordered the steward curtly: ‘Go and fetch Mrs Ho’s chambermaid!’ Then he went over to the couch. The coroner had turned the dead woman’s head round. The face was badly distorted, but one could still see that she had been a handsome woman. The judge put her age at about thirty. The coroner pushed the hair aside and showed the judge a bad bruise above the left temple.

  ‘This is one point that worries me, sir,’ he said slowly. ‘The second is that the death was caused by strangulation, but none of the vertebrae of the neck has been dislocated. Now I measured the length of the cord dangling from that beam up there, of the noose lying on the table and of the woman herself. It’s easy to see how she could have done it. She stepped on that chair, then onto the table. She threw the cord over the beam, tied one end in a slip-knot and pulled it tight round the beam. Then she made the other end into a noose, put it round her neck and jumped from the table, upsetting the teapot. While she was hanging there, her feet must have been only a few inches from the floor. The noose slowly strangled her, but her neck was not broken. I can’t help wondering why she didn’t put the other chair on the table, then jump down from it. A drop like that would have broken her neck, ensuring a quick death. If one combines this fact with the bruise on her temple…’ He broke off and gave the judge a meaningful look.

  ‘You are right,’ Judge Dee said. He took the official form and put it back in his sleeve. Heaven only knew when he would be able to issue the death certificate! He sighed and asked: ‘What about the time of death?’

  That’s hard to say, Your Honour. The body is still warm, and the limbs haven’t yet begun to stiffen. But in this hot weather, and in this closed room …’

  The judge nodded absentmindedly. He was staring at the brass box. It had the shape of a pentagon with rounded corners, measuring about a foot in diameter, and about an inch high. The brass cover showed a cut-out design of five interconnected spirals. Through it one could see the brown powder that filled the box to the brim.

  The coroner followed his glance. ‘That’s an incense-clock,’ he remarked.

  ‘It is indeed. The pattern excised in the cover is that of the Five Auspicious Clouds, each cloud being represented by one spiral. If one lights the incense at the beginning of the design, it’ll slowly burn on along the spirals of the pattern, as if it were a fuse. Look, the tea spilling from the spout of the teapot moistened the centre of the third spiral, extinguishing the incense about halfway through that part of the design. If we could find out when exactly this incense-clock was lit, and how long it took the fire to reach the centre of the third spiral, we would be able to establish the approximate time of the suicide. Or rather of the …’

  Judge Dee checked himself, for the steward had come in. He was accompanied by a portly woman of about fifty, in a neat brown dress. Her round face still showed traces of tears. As soon as she had seen the still figure on the couch, she burst out in sobs.

  ‘How long has she been with Mrs Ho?’ Judge Dee asked the

  steward.

  ‘More than twenty years, Your Honour. She belonged to Mrs Ho’s own family, and three years ago followed her here, after Mr Ho had married her. She is not too bright, but a good woman. The mistress was very fond of her.’

  THE DESIGN OF THE INCENSE-CLOCK

  ‘Calm yourself!’ the judge addressed the maid. ‘This must be a terrible shock for you, but if you answer my questions promptly, we’ll be able to have the body properly placed in a coffin very soon. Tell me, are you familiar with this incense-clock?’

  She wiped her face with her sleeve and replied listlessly, ‘Of course I am, sir. It burns exactly five hours, each spiral taking one hour. Just before I left, the mistress complained of the musty air here, and I lit the incense.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘It was getting on for two, sir.’

  ‘That was the last time you saw your mistress alive, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sir. When Mr Hwa was talking with the master in the reception room, over in the house, I took my mistress here. Soon after the master came in, to see that she was comfortably established for her siesta. She told me to pour two cups of tea, adding that she wouldn’t need me again until five o’clock, and that I’d better take a nap also. She was always so considerate! I went back to the house and told the steward to lay out in the main bedroom the master’s new grey dress, for the conference in the tribunal. Then the master came too. After the steward had helped him to change, the master told me to fetch Mr Hwa. They left the house together.’

  ‘Where was Mr Hwa?’

  ‘I found him in the garden, sir, admiring the flowers.’

  ‘That’s right,’ the steward remarked. ‘After the conversation in the reception room I just told Your Honour about, the master asked Mr Hwa to excuse him while he said good-bye to Mrs Ho in the pavilion and changed. It seems that Mr Hwa, left alone in the reception room, got bored and went outside to have a look at the garden.’

  ‘I see. Now who discovered the body first, you or this maid?’

  ‘I did, sir,’ the maid replied. ‘I came here a little before five o’clock, and I … I saw her hanging there, from that beam. I rushed out and called the steward.’

  ‘I stood on the chair at once,’ the steward said, ‘and cut the cord while the maid put her arms round her. I prised the cord loose, and then we carried her to the couch. Breathing and heartbeat had stopped. We tried to revive her with vigorous massage, but it was too late. I hurried to the tribunal to report to the master. If I had discovered her earlier …’

  ‘You did what you could, steward. Let me see now. You told me that during the noon
meal Mrs Ho was in high spirits, until the arrival of Mr Hwa, right?’

  ‘Yes, sir. When Mrs Ho heard me announce Mr Hwa’s arrival to the master, she turned pale and quickly withdrew to the side room. I saw that she …’

  ‘You must be mistaken!’ the maid interrupted crossly. ‘I accompanied her when she went from the side room to the pavilion, and I didn’t notice that she was upset!’

  The steward was about to make an angry retort, but Judge Dee held up his hand and said curtly to him: ‘Go to the gatehouse, and ask the gatekeeper what persons he admitted to the house after your master and Mr Hwa had left-why they came and how long they stayed. Hurry up!’

  When the steward had scurried away, Judge Dee sat down at the table. Slowly caressing his sidewhiskers, he silently studied the woman who was standing in front of him with downcast eyes. Then he spoke: ‘Your mistress is dead. It is your duty to tell us everything that might help to find the person who either directly or indirectly caused her death. Speak up, why did the arrival of Mr Hwa distress her?’

  The maid darted a frightened look at him. She replied diffidently: ‘I really don’t know, sir! I only know that in the past two weeks she went twice to visit Mr Hwa, without Mr Ho knowing it. I wanted to go with her, but Mr Fung said …’ She suddenly broke off. Growing red in the face, she angrily bit her lip.

  ‘Who is Mr Fung?’ Judge Dee asked sharply.

  She deliberated for a while, her forehead creased in a deep frown. Then she shrugged her shoulders and answered, ‘Well, it’s bound to come out, and they didn’t do anything wrong anyway! Mr Fung is a painter, sir, very poor and in bad health. He used to live in a small hovel near our house. Six years ago the father of my mistress, the retired prefect, engaged Mr Fung to teach my mistress to paint flowers. She was only twenty-two then, and he was such a handsome young man. … No wonder they fell in love with each other. Mr Fung is such a nice man, Your Honour, and his father was a famous scholar. But he lost all his money, and …’