Poets And Murder Read online

  A MERCHANT WELCOMES TWO MAGISTRATES

  The other papers related to the student’s landlord, the tea-merchant Meng Su-chai. Meng had taken over the old-established tea firm from his father. Eighteen years ago he had married the daughter of a colleague called Hwang, who had borne him a daughter, now sixteen, and a son, fourteen. He had one officially registered concubine. Marriage and birth certificates were attached. Judge Dee nodded with satisfaction; Counsellor Kao was evidently a diligent officer. Merchant Meng was forty now; he paid his taxes on time and supported a few charitable organizations. He was evidently a Buddhist, for he was a patron of the Temple of Subtle Insight, one of the many sanctuaries in Temple Street. Thinking of Buddhism reminded the judge of something. He nudged his companion who was snoring softly and asked, ‘What did your counsellor say about a sexton?’

  ‘A sexton? ‘ Lo stared at him with sleep-heavy eyes.

  ‘Didn’t I hear Kao mention that a sexton took part in today’s noon meal in your residence?’

  ‘Of course! You must have heard of Sexton Loo, haven’t you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. I don’t mix much with the Buddhist crowd.’ As a staunch Confucianist, Judge Dee disapproved of Buddhism, and the scandalous behaviour of the monks in the Temple of Transcendental Wisdom in his own district had further fortified him in this antagonistic attitude.

  Magistrate Lo chuckled.

  ‘Sexton Loo doesn’t belong to any crowd, Dee. Will be a real treat for you to meet him, elder brother! You’ll positively enjoy talking with him. My head feels a bit better now. Let me have a look at those documents!’

  Judge Dee handed him the sheaf of papers, and sat back in silence for the remainder of the journey.

  Chapter 3

  THE TEA-MERCHANT’S HOUSE was located in a lane so narrow that the palankeen could hardly pass, but the high brick walls on both sides, decked with weatherbeaten green tiles, indicated that this was an old residential section of the town, inhabited by well-to-do people. The bearers halted in front of a black-lacquered gate, lavishly decorated with metal work. The headman who stood waiting there raised his whip, and the small crowd of curious onlookers scattered. The double-gate was pushed open. The high canopy of the palankeen just cleared the heavy age-blackened rafters of the gatehouse.

  Stepping down from the palankeen after Magistrate Lo, Judge Dee threw a quick look at the well-kept front courtyard, quiet and cool in the shadow of two tall yew trees. They flanked the granite steps leading up to the impressive, red-pillared main hall. A thin man dressed in a long, olive-green gown and wearing a square black cap of pleated horsehair came hurriedly down the stairs to welcome the visitors. Lo went up to him with quick, mincing steps.

  ‘You are the merchant Meng, I presume? Splendid! Glad to meet the owner of our most famous tea firm. Terrible thing, murder and robbery in your old-established, distinguished house! And on the eve of the Mid-autumn Festival, too!’

  Mr Meng made a low bow and began to apologize for the trouble he was causing the authorities. But the small magistrate cut him short.

  ‘Always at the citizens’ service, Mr Meng! Always! This gentleman is a friend of mine, by the way. A colleague who happened to be with me when the murder was reported.’ Lo put his winged cap at a jaunty angle. ‘Well, take us to the place where it happened. Your back-courtyard, if I remember correctly.’

  ‘Indeed, Your Honour. May I be allowed to offer some refreshments in the main hall first? Then I can explain to Your Honour exactly how …’

  ‘No, no need to stand on ceremony, my dear fellow! Lead the way to the back-yard, please.’

  The tea-merchant’s face fell, but he made a resigned bow and took them along a covered corridor that went round the main hall to a walled garden at the back, lined by rows of potted flowers. Two maidservants scurried away when they saw their master and the two high officials coming round the corner. The headman brought up the rear, the iron manacles suspended on his belt clanking together at his every step. Mr Meng pointed at the sprawling building opposite.

  ‘Those are my family quarters, sir. We’ll go round them by the pathway on the left here.’

  Walking along the narrow paved path which ran under the protruding eaves, close to the red-lacquered lattice windows, Judge Dee got a glimpse of a pale face inside. He thought it was a young and rather handsome girl.

  They came to an extensive orchard where a variety of fruit trees stood in tangled undergrowth.

  ‘My late mother was greatly interested in the cultivation of trees and plants,’ the tea-merchant explained. ‘She personally supervised the gardeners. After her demise last year, I couldn’t find time …’

  ‘Quite,’ Magistrate Lo said, gathering up the lower hem of his robe. The winding footpath leading through the orchard was lined by thorny weeds. ‘Those pears up there look delicious.’

  ‘It’s a special kind, Your Honour. Large and tasty. Well, the back-yard rented by Mr Soong is over on the other side there, you can just see the roof. Your Honour’ll understand now why we didn’t hear any outcry or commotion at midnight. We …’

  Lo halted in his steps.

  ‘Last night? Why then was the murder reported only this noon?’

  ‘That was the time the body was discovered, sir. Mr Soong always breakfasted on a few oil-cakes from the stall on the corner, and he used to brew his own morning tea. But his noon and evening rice were served by my maids. When Soong didn’t open up when the maid brought his noon meal, she fetched me. I knocked several times, and called Mr Soong’s name. When no sound came from inside I feared he had fallen seriously ill. I ordered my steward to break the door down and …’

  ‘I see. Well, let’s go on!’

  A constable was guarding the door of the low brick building at the back of the orchard. He opened the door carefully, for the panel was cracked and the hinges out of joint. As they stepped inside the small library, the tea-merchant said vexedly:

  ‘Look how the murderer ransacked the place, sir! And it was my late mother’s favourite room. After my father’s death she came here nearly every afternoon-it was so quiet, and she could see her trees right in front of the window. She sat here at the desk, reading and writing. And now …’ He cast a dejected glance at the rosewood desk by the window. The drawers had been pulled out, their contents strewn on the paved floor: papers, visiting-cards, and writing implements. Beside the cushioned armchair lay a red leather cash-box, the lid half wrenched off. It was empty.

  ‘I see that madame your mother liked poetry,’ Magistrate Lo said with satisfaction. He eyed the volumes piled up on the shelves against the side wall, the titles marked on neat red labels. The books were bristling with reading marks stuck among the leaves. Lo went to take a volume down, then thought better of it and asked curtly:

  ‘The door-curtain back there leads to the bedroom, I suppose?’

  As Meng nodded, Lo quickly pulled the curtain aside. The bedroom was somewhat larger than the library. Against the back wall stood a simple bedstead, the quilts turned back, and beside its head a small bedside table bearing a candle that had burnt out completely. A long bamboo flute was hanging from a nail on the wall. Opposite stood a dressing-table of carved ebony. The clothes-box of red pigskin had been pulled out from under the bed, its open lid revealing a mass of rumpled men’s garments. In the back wall was a solid door, provided with a large bolt. A squat man in a blue gown was kneeling by the side of the dead man on the floor. Judge Dee saw over Lo’s shoulder that the student had been a thin, bony man with a regular face adorned by a small moustache and chinbeard. His topknot had come loose; the hair was sticking to the pool of clotted blood on the floor mat. His black cap, spattered with blood, was lying beside his head. He was clad in a white nightrobe, and he had soft felt shoes on his feet, the soles of which showed traces of dried mud. There was an ugly gash under his right ear.

  The coroner came hastily to his feet and made a bow.

  ‘The artery on the right side of his neck was cut by a
savage blow, Your Honour. With a large knife or chopper, I’d say. About midnight, judging by the condition of the body. He was lying right here, on his face. I turned him over to verify whether there were other signs of violence, but I found none.’

  Magistrate Lo muttered something, then devoted his attention to the tea-merchant, who had remained standing just inside the door. Twirling the points of his small moustache with thumb and forefinger, he gave Meng a thoughtful look. Judge Dee thought that Meng had a rather scholarly air: a long, sallow face, the thinness of which was stressed by the drooping moustache and ragged goatee.

  ‘You also mentioned midnight, Mr Meng,’ Lo suddenly said. ‘Why?’

  ‘It had struck me, sir,’ the tea-merchant replied slowly, ‘that although Mr Soong was dressed in his nightrobe, the bed had not been slept in. Now we know he kept late hours; there usually was a light in his window till midnight. Therefore I supposed that the murderer surprised Soong just when he was about to go to bed.’

  Lo nodded. ‘How did the murderer get inside, Mr Meng?’ The other sighed. Shaking his head, he replied: ‘Mr Soong seems to have been a little absent-minded, Your Honour. The maids told my wife that he would often just sit and brood when they set the table for his meals, and did not reply when addressed. Last night he forgot to bolt the back door of this room, and also omitted to bar the garden gate. This way, please, Your Honour.’

  The constable sitting on the ramshackle bamboo bench in the small garden sprang to attention. It crossed Judge Dee’s mind that Lo had seen to it that his personnel were trained well: posting guards at all approaches to the scene of a crime was a precaution neglected by many more perfunctory magistrates. He bestowed a cursory look upon the shed that served as kitchen and washroom, then joined Lo and Meng who were going out through the narrow gate in the high garden wall. The headman of the constables followed them into the alley that ran between the forbidding garden walls of the houses in Mr Meng’s lane and in the street running parallel to it. Pointing at the heaps of refuse that cluttered up the narrow passage, the tea-merchant remarked:

  ‘Late at night vagabonds and ragpickers often roam about here, Your Honour, exploring these piles of rubbish. I warned Mr Soong always to keep the garden gate barred at night. Last night he must have gone out for a walk, and on his return forgotten to do so. Nor did he bolt the bedroom door, for when I found his dead body, it was standing ajar. The garden gate was closed but not barred. I’ll show it to you, exactly as I found it.’

  He took them back into the garden. A heavy wooden crossbar was propped up against the garden wall, beside the gate. Mr Meng resumed:

  ‘It’s easy to reconstruct what happened, Your Honour. A ruffian passing through the alley noticed that the garden gate was ajar. He slipped into the garden and inside the house, assuming that the occupant was asleep. But Soong, who was just preparing for bed, spotted him. When the ruffian saw that Soong was all alone, he killed him on the spot. Then he ransacked the bedroom and the library. After he had discovered the cash-box, he took the money and left in the same way he had come.’

  Magistrate Lo nodded slowly. ‘Did Mr Soong usually keep a large sum of money in the cash-box?’

  ‘That I couldn’t tell you, sir. He paid one month’s rent in advance, but he must have left at least travelling funds for his return journey to the capital. And there may have been some trinkets in his clothes-box.’

  ‘We’ll get the scoundrel soon enough, Excellency!’ the headman remarked. ‘Those ruffians always start spending freely as soon as they’ve made a good haul. Shall I order my men to make the round of the wine-houses and gambling-dens, sir?’

  ‘Yes, do that, Headman. Let them also make discreet inquiries in the pawnshops. Place the body in a temporary coffin, and convey it to the mortuary in the tribunal. We must also inform the next of kin.’ Magistrate Lo turned to the tea-merchant and asked, ‘Soong will have had some friends or relatives here in this town, I suppose?’

  ‘Apparently he hadn’t, Your Honour. No one ever came to my house inquiring after him, and to the best of my knowledge he never received visitors. Mr Soong was a serious, studious young man, kept himself very much to himself. I told him at our first meeting that he was always welcome for a cup of tea and a chat after dinner, but all through the past two weeks he never availed himself of my invitation. That astonished me a bit, sir, for he was a polite, well-spoken youngster. As a common courtesy to one’s host, one’d have expected that …’

  ‘All right, Mr Meng. I’ll tell my counsellor to write a letter to the Board of Education in the capital, asking them to inform Soong’s family. Let’s go back to the library.’

  Lo offered Judge Dee the armchair at the desk. He himself pulled up a barrel-shaped seat to the bookshelves. He took a few volumes down and began to leaf through them.

  ‘Aha!’ he exclaimed. ‘Your late mother was a lady of excellent literary taste, Mr Meng! She also read the minor poets, I see. Minor by the official standard, at least.’ He shot a quick look at the judge and added with a smile, ‘My friend Dee, being rather conservative, Mr Meng, probably won’t agree. But personally I find those so-called minor poets more original than those who receive official recognition in the Imperial Catalogue.’ He replaced the books, and took down a few others. While leafing through them he resumed without looking up, ‘Since Mr Soong had no friends or relatives here in Chin-hwa, Mr Meng, how did he know that you wanted to rent your back-yard?’

  ‘I happened to be visiting Your Honour’s counsellor, Mr Kao, when Soong came to register two weeks ago, sir. Mr Kao was aware that I wanted to rent this section of my residence after my mother’s death, and he kindly introduced me to Mr Soong. I took the student home with me, and showed him the yard. He was very pleased, said that it was exactly the kind of quiet lodging he had been looking for. He added that if his research in the old records would take more time than expected, he would like to prolong the tenancy. I was pleased too, for it isn’t easy to …’

  The tea-merchant broke off, for Lo didn’t seem to be listening. He was absorbed in reading one of the paper slips tucked in the volume in his lap. The small magistrate looked up.

  ‘Your mother’s comments are very much to the point, Mr Meng. And she wrote a beautiful hand!’

  ‘She practised calligraphy every morning, Your Honour, even after her eyesight deteriorated. And since my late father was also interested in poetry, they often discussed together the …’

  ‘Excellent!’ Lo exclaimed. ‘Your house can boast of an elegant literary heritage, Mr Meng. You yourself continue that noble tradition, I trust?’

  The tea-merchant smiled sadly.

  ‘Unfortunately, Heaven decided to withhold its blessings for one generation, Your Honour. I myself have no talent for literature at all. But it seems that my son and daughter …’

  ‘Very good! Well, Mr Meng, we shan’t detain you any longer. You’re doubtless eager to go to your shop. On the corner where our main thoroughfare is crossed by Temple Street, isn’t it? Do you keep bitter tea from the south in stock? Yes? Good! I’ll tell my housemaster to place an order with you. Best tea to drink after a heavy dinner. Shall do my utmost to get the ruffian who committed this brutal murder as soon as possible. Let you know at once when there’s news. Good-bye, Mr Meng.’

  The tea-merchant made his bow in front of the two magistrates, and the headman took him outside. When he was alone with Judge Dee, Lo slowly replaced the books on the shelf. He straightened the volumes carefully, then he folded his hands over his paunch. Rolling up his eyes, he exclaimed:

  ‘Holy heaven, what terrible luck, elder brother! To be saddled with a complicated case of premeditated murder, just when I have to entertain such illustrious guests! And it’ll take much hard work to solve this case, for the murderer was a clever devil. You agree that the cap was the only real mistake he made, don’t you, Dee?’

  Chapter 4

  JUDGE DEE GAVE his colleague a sharp look. He leaned back in the armchair and, slowly car
essing his long sidewhiskers, said:

  ‘Yes, Lo, I fully agree with you that it was no murder for robbery committed by a vagrant ruffian. Even if we assume that Soong was so absent-minded as to have forgotten to bar and bolt both garden gate and bedroom door, a robber who saw a door standing ajar late at night would of course reconnoitre before entering the premises. He’d have made a peephole in the window-paper, for instance, and looked inside. Seeing Soong preparing for bed, he’d have waited an hour or so, and entered only after he had verified that the student was sound asleep.’ As Lo nodded his round head vigorously, the judge went on, ‘I am inclined to assume that when Soong had taken off his cap and upper robe, and had changed into his nightdress, preparing for bed, he heard a knock on the garden gate. He put on his cap again, and went outside to ask who it was.’

  ‘Precisely!’ Lo said. ‘You’ll also have noticed that there was a bit of dried mud on his house shoes.’

  ‘I did. The visitor must have been someone known to Soong. The student took the bar from the gate, and led his visitor inside. Probably asked him to go on to the library, while he put on his upper robe. When Soong had his back turned, the visitor slew him from behind. I say from behind, because the wound is located under the victim’s right ear. However that may be, I agree that leaving the cap where it had fallen on the floor was a bad mistake. For no man keeps his cap on his head while disrobing. The murderer ought to have cleansed the cap of bloodstains, and put it where it belonged, on the bed-table, beside the candle.’