James Benn - The White Ghost

“So no one else besides his family came to visit him?”

“No, not exactly,” Schwartz said, rubbing his chin absentmindedly.

“What?” I asked.

“Lieutenant Kennedy-you know that guy who got his PT boat rammed? — I saw him in the hallway last night, late. He stopped and looked in the Chinese ward. But then he left.”

“What time?” I asked.

“It was a little after two o’clock. I was headed to the mess for some coffee when I saw him. I asked if he needed any help, and he said he was looking in on a friend, then heading for his hut.”

“You watched him leave?”

“Sure,” Schwartz said. “I didn’t follow him, if that’s what you mean. But he went in that direction, down the main corridor.” He hitched his thumb in the general direction of the long hallway leading to the rear of the hospital and the grass and bamboo huts for the walking wounded of the officer class.

“Hang on a sec, Doc,” I said, brushing past Schwartz.

“That’s Captain,” he said, without much enthusiasm.

“Miss Chang,” I said, noticing for the first time that she was accompanied by two large guys standing on each side of her. Their eyes focused on me as I drew closer, and one stepped in front of Rui while the other intercepted me. Classic bodyguard moves. She spoke sharply, and they eased back into position.

“Are you done, Lieutenant Boyle?” she asked.

“Almost, Miss Chang. Could you or one of your associates ask the other patients if they saw anyone enter the ward during the night?”

“Such an obvious question, Lieutenant. We asked hours ago. No, none of them saw anything. Two patients, including the man opposite my brother, had been given sedatives. My brother as well was given a sleeping pill. The assailant could have easily entered in silence and done his work.”

“Forgive me saying so, but the men with you appear to be bodyguards. Is that because of the murder of your brother, or is it how you usually travel?”

“My sister and I always go out with one escort,” she said. “Due to the perilous times in which we live. The second man is because of my brother.” She spoke very precise English, each syllable clipped and exact. Her posture was equally as exact. She stood erect, completely still, not a wasted movement, even in her hands, which were demurely clasped in front of her. Her eyes were dark, her lips red, and her cheekbones finely sculpted. Jack always did go for the finer things in life.

“I see. Is it possible he was killed as the result of business dealings? In these perilous times?”

“No, Lieutenant Boyle, it is not,” she said with the ghost of a smile. “My brother had been trapped on Vella Lavella for months. He had no opportunity to engage in a dispute that would have resulted in such an attack. In any case, very few people knew he got out and was on Tulagi, and most of those were American navy or Coastwatchers. I am afraid you must look to your own people for the killer.”

“I understand Lieutenant Kennedy visited you last night,” I said, watching for a reaction.

“You saw us leave the party together, so you know that,” she said.

“I don’t mean to pry, but did you mention your brother’s presence here to Jack? Ask him to stop and visit?”

“Yes, I did,” Rui said. “I gave him a bamboo plant and asked him to leave it on Shan’s bed table. Or Sam, as you call him. I saw it there when I looked in earlier. It is a symbol of good luck, and I thought it would cheer Shan up when he awoke.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she kept them in check.

“Did your brother know a Melanesian named Daniel Tamana? He’s also a Coastwatcher.”

“Not that I know of,” Rui said. “Is that not the man who was recently murdered?”

“Yes. I understand Daniel was looking for your brother the day before he was killed.”

“As you know, Lieutenant,” she said, “if he found him, it would have been in this room. Shan was hardly in a position to attack and kill him, if that is what you are alluding to.”

“No, not at all. I simply thought it might shed some light on Daniel’s activities the day of his death.”

“If I hear of anything, I will inform you,” Rui said. “Shan may have known him on Vella Lavella, but I would have no knowledge of that.”

“One last question, I promise. What time did Jack leave you?”

“Perhaps one thirty, a little later.”

“Thank you, Miss Chang. I am very sorry about your brother’s death. I will do everything I can to find the killer.”

“Do so, Lieutenant Boyle,” she said, and left. A woman used to getting her way. I watched the bodyguards flanking her, and thought that even from a hospital bed, a Chang family member would have no trouble getting their dirty work done for them.

“Okay, Captain Schwartz,” I said, returning to the room and noting the glass vase with sprouted bamboo. “How long would it take to strangle him?”

“Hard to say. He could have struggled, fought back,” Schwartz said.

“Don’t worry, Doc, I won’t ask for a second opinion,” I said. “And remember, he’d been given a sleeping pill.”

“Right,” Schwartz said, consulting the chart still hanging at the end of the bed. “Supposing his assailant could get into position without waking him, it would take about ten seconds of firm, steady pressure to render him unconscious. Then another minute and it’s all over. The sedative would have made the job easier.”

I hefted the glass vase with the bamboo plant set in among smooth, rounded pebbles. It would have made a decent cosh, but there had been no need. I checked the drawer on the nightstand, but it was empty. Not surprising since Chang probably came in with nothing but the clothes on his back. Or if there had been anything valuable, his sisters would have taken it for safekeeping. I rolled his body, looking for anything hidden in the bed. Nothing.

“I don’t see any other marks or bruises, do you?”

“No,” Schwartz said, unbuttoning Chang’s pajama top and getting a good look at the marks left by the killer’s hands. “Strong hands, I’d say.”

“Why?”

“Even with the sedative, he would have woken up,” Schwartz said. “The natural response is to thrash about, and if he moved that leg at all, it would have been painful. A sharp, sudden pain that would make anyone gasp or scream, sedated or not.”

“But he was being choked,” I said.

“Right, but some sort of sound would have come out, unless the grip was very tight, which also would have rendered him unconscious more quickly. My conjecture is that his assailant was very strong and determined, otherwise Chang would have made more than enough noise to wake someone in this room.”

“Strong, determined, and with big hands,” I said, placing my own around Chang’s throat. “Bigger than mine.”

“Right,” Schwartz said. “The killer might be right-handed, as well. See how the right thumbprint shows? People usually grasp things first with their dominant hand.”

“You know your way around dead bodies, Doc.”

“You do your residency at County General in Chicago, you see a lot of violent injuries in the ER,” Schwartz said. “Couldn’t help learning a few things from the questions cops asked.”

“Thanks, Captain, you’ve been a big help. Okay to move him out.” I arranged Chang’s hands on his chest, closed his eyes, and drew the sheet up over his face as Schwartz loosened the wires holding Chang’s leg in traction. I left, wishing Sam Chang a quick trip to the next life and hopes that it’d be a peaceful one.

As for Jack, my mind wasn’t made up. I knew he had a temper, and it wasn’t impossible to think of him taking a whack at a guy in a rage; I could see him killing Daniel in an unguarded moment. But could he throttle a man to death? It wouldn’t have been his style in Boston, but in the South Pacific, surrounded by blood, decay, and death, who knew?