David Rotenberg - The Lake Ching murders

The coroner began to chuckle.

“Something funny, Grandpa?” Fong demanded.

“Have you ever drunk champagne, Zhong Fong?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, this restaurateur was asked to supply champagne for the festivities.”

“So?”

“So, he was asked to supply it in bottles with twist-off caps.”

“So?”

“So, good champagne doesn’t come with twist-off caps. They have sealed tops and corks,” said Lily. Everyone looked to her. “As an attractive and available Han Chinese girl, on occasion I am treated to the delectations of the West – by boys.”

Fong was happy she hadn’t tried to say that in English. But he was concerned that things were getting out of hand. “So what, I repeat.”

“So,” Lily said in English. “Twist-off cheap, cheap. Why cheap, cheap for boat guys? No sense makes.”

Bad English or not, Lily’s point was made.

Fong began to nod his agreement as Chen and the coroner complained loudly about Lily’s use of English. In the midst of Lily’s repetition of her sentiments in Shanghanese, Fong said, “That’s how the poison got on board.”

“That would be my guess,” said the coroner. “Of course, it’s possible that the local cuisine killed these guys without the use of additives. It’s sure doing its work on me.” At that the old man’s flatulence filled the air.

“Nice, very. In a lady’s front, no less,” shouted Lily in English.

Fong grinned. Lily did not.

After a brief recess, literally to allow the air to clear, it was Chen’s turn to report on his conversation with the boat owner.

“May I point out something?”

“No,” snapped Fong, “just do what I asked, Captain Chen. Tell us exactly what was said when you interviewed the boat owner?”

“Exactly?” Chen asked.

It appeared to Fong that the man was blushing. He couldn’t guess why, so he bulled forward, “Word for word.”

Chen coughed into his hand to hide his embarrassment. Then he flipped open a notebook and read from his notes.

Q: Are you the owner of the boat that sank in the lake?

A: No.

Q: No?

A: This is China. No one owns anything.

Chen said, “He laughed then.” Under his breath he muttered, “He laughed a lot.”

Q: Are you in charge of the rental arrangements for the boat that sank in the lake?

A: Who the fuck are you?”

Q: I’m a police officer investigating the events that transpired on board that ship.

A: You talk funny and you are a seriously ugly puke.

“He stopped at that.”

“Did you threaten him, sewer rat?” asked the coroner nonchalantly.

“No,” Chen said threateningly.

“Let’s get on with it,” said Fong. “What happened next?”

“I showed him my ID.”

“Not the picture one, I hope,” gulped the coroner.

Chen looked to Fong. Fong shrugged in the coroner’s direction, “He’s overexcited because he’s out of town. What did you ask next?”

Chen took a deep breath and started again.

Q: So are you the person in charge of the boat?

A: I was.

Q: Was?

A: It’s sunk, gone, no more. So I’m not the person in charge of the boat anymore, am I? You going to write all this down?

Q: Yes. Who rented the boat from you?

A: A guy.

Q: Which guy?

A: The guy who rented the boat.

Q: You always such a smart ass?

A: Your face always look like a pimpled ass?

“Hide you ass,” Lily said in her personal variant of the English language.

“So ‘Hide you us’ means hideous. Swell.” Fong thought. But what he said was, “What did you learn from this turd, Captain Chen? What did you learn that we need to know?”

Chen put aside his notebook. “The guy had all the necessary clearances to give the boat to foreigners. His men got the boat out onto the lake, handed the controls over to the Taiwanese guy with the pilot’s licence then took one of the lifeboats back to shore.”

“Did he or his men see anyone, other than the dead men, on board the boat?”

Chen hesitated.

Before Chen could speak, the coroner piped up with, “Shit.”

Chen smiled. The smile sat oddly on his features.

“May I add my information now, sir?”

“Certainly, Chen,” Fong responded testily.

“Thank you, sir.” He took a breath, enjoying the moment then said, “They saw the girl.”

“Which girl?” asked Lily.

Captain Chen’s smile increased. He reached into his pocket and took out one of the business cards the Triad man gave him. “This one.” He flipped the coloured business card onto the table.

“Nice picture,” the coroner said.

“Doesn’t that ever go away,” Fong thought. “What about the writing, Grandpa?” he asked.

The coroner moved the card far from his face and read in a booming voice: “Sun Li Cha – Mistress of the Ancient Arts.Then some foreign scratching.”

Lily grabbed the card. “It’s English, I think,” she said in Shanghanese. The coroner looked at her. “English speaks me. It doesn’t read me,” Lily told him.

Fong took the card and read the English. “Sunny Lee - Mistress of the Cervical Arts.”Fong didn’t have a clue what that meant. But Lily was suddenly on her feet, pacing.

“I know that reference in English. I’ve heard it before,” she said in Shanghanese. “I’ve seen it on TV.”

Fong stared at her. Unless television had changed drastically during his years on the other side of the Wall, he doubted that Sunny Lee’s artistry had ever been seen on a television set in the People’s Republic of China.

“Got it!” Lily announced. “Got it! It’s that game the British play with sticks and balls on a green table. The announcer calls it (here she switched to English) ‘The Academy of Cervical Arts.’”

Fong briefly wondered if Lily knew any English at all. Then he recalled dealing with a rape case early in his time with Special Investigations in Shanghai. He remembered his embarrassment when he was forced to learn the English names for female private parts. In many ways, it was an education for him since the Chinese names were more fanciful than scientific. He remembered nodding like an idiot as the doctor briefed him on the assault. Then he took the doctor’s report home to Fu Tsong. They were eating a meal he had prepared when he chose to ask his questions. She’d at first found it funny then slowly realized that Fong was deadly serious. Embarrassed, but deadly serious. So she led him through – part by part.

It had bonded them even closer together – had made her infidelity even more devastating.

Fong spoke. “Let’s leave it that she was part of the entertainment on board ship, shall we?”

Chen took the card from Fong and flipped it over. “Personally, I thought this was of more interest.” He pointed at a phone number. Fong swore under his breath.

“It’s a local Xian number.”

“It’s probably just a cell phone,” said Grandpa.

“She’d have to register an address to get a cell phone,” said Chen.

“And I’m sure she gave an accurate account of her lodgings to the authorities, fart face.”

“Get her name and picture to Xian vice. Xian’s a big tourist town, they’re bound to know her,” said Fong.

Chen nodded, was about to say something then thought better of it.

Fong said, “Well done, Captain Chen.”

“Thank you. I can complete the transparencies if you want, sir.”

“Complete how?”

“With more projectors I can detail the floors and ceilings to go with the walls.”