Peter May - The Killing Room

Li glanced uneasily at Lan. Then, ‘You are,’ he told Margaret.

‘Good, then we’ll start the autopsies in the morning.’ She nodded to Lan, handed the gloves and the cotton to the assistant, and headed out into the hallway. Li followed her, leaving Mei-Ling to deal with Lan’s loss of mianzi .

Li lowered his voice almost to a whisper. ‘Was that really necessary?’

‘What?’

‘Putting me on the spot like that?’

This was not how Margaret wanted it to be. She had taken a momentous decision, travelled a long way to be with Li, and already they were at one another’s throats. But there were principles at stake. ‘I’m the one who’s on the spot here,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice down. ‘You’ve brought me in on an investigation that some people would clearly like to see just disappear.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That press conference,’ she said, ‘was a joke. The Commissioner of Police is telling the press that these women weren’t murdered, even before the investigation’s got properly under way. And Dr Lan might be a very good pathologist, but I think he’s just fulfilling some wishful thinking on behalf of his bosses.’

‘Are you saying he’s concealing the findings of his autopsies?’

‘Not necessarily,’ Margaret said. ‘But maybe he’s just not looking very hard.’ She sighed. ‘You’re a good cop, Li Yan, but when it comes to politics you can be pretty naïve.’

Li frowned. ‘You think someone is actually trying to subvert the investigation?’

She shrugged. ‘Well, it’s all pretty embarrassing, isn’t it? For the authorities.’

Li said, ‘It was the Mayor’s policy adviser who put me in charge. It was he who gave me permission to bring you in.’

‘Then maybe there are others who don’t like decisions like that being taken over their heads.’

Li thought about it. His meeting with Huang and the Deputy Commissioner had been pretty frosty, and the Commissioner himself had been briefed by Huang. But he found it hard to believe that any one of them would contrive to hide the truth. Why would they?

Margaret said, ‘The point is, I have my integrity and a professional reputation to protect. Either I get full access and complete co-operation or I’m on the first plane home.’

For a moment, Li wondered where she meant by ‘home’. The United States? He was confused. She had stayed on in China to be with him and had only returned to the States to attend her father’s funeral. He dragged his thoughts back to the case. He said, ‘You have my guarantee on that.’

She nodded. ‘Then that’s good enough for me.’ And suddenly she wilted, fatigue etching itself on her face. She wanted to touch him, feel his skin under her fingers, his soft warm lips on her neck. ‘Let’s go back to the hotel. I need a shower, then we can get something to eat, and …’ Li looked uncomfortable. ‘What?’

‘We must attend a banquet tonight.’

She felt all the strength drain out of her. All the Chinese ever seemed to do was hold banquets. ‘Aw, Jesus, Li, not tonight. Please.’

He shrugged helplessly. ‘I have got no choice. It is being hosted by the Mayor’s policy adviser, and you and I are the guests of honour. I think he wants to show us off.’

Mei-Ling came out from the refrigeration room and cast Margaret a chilly look. She said to Li, ‘I will give you a lift back to your hotel after we have dropped off Miss Campbell.’

Margaret frowned and said to Li, ‘Aren’t you staying at the Peace Hotel?’

Mei-Ling answered for him. ‘I am afraid the budget does not run to two rooms at the Peace Hotel, Miss Campbell. We Chinese have to content ourselves with something a little more austere.’

For the first time, Li became aware of the friction between the two, and was puzzled by it. After all, they had only just met.

Mei-Ling said, ‘But do not worry, we will come back and pick you up on the way to the banquet tonight.’

Margaret bristled. ‘We? Do I take it that you are also going to the banquet?’

Mei-Ling smiled. ‘Of course.’

Margaret’s shower had lifted her appearance, but not her spirits. Her hair fell in freshly laundered golden waves across her shoulders. She had put on an elegant but conservative sleeveless black dress for the banquet. But her eyes were stinging from lack of sleep, she felt tired and depressed and in need of alcohol. She wandered in search of the bar along endless marbled corridors dominated by gold and pink squared ceilings and elaborate Art Deco uplighters. But there were no signs in English that she could see. In a lounge opposite the reception lobby, people sat drinking coffee and beer at tables, but it was not exactly what Margaret had in mind.

‘S’cuse me. You Miss Maggot Cambo?’

Margaret turned to find a smiling young Chinese man standing timidly in front of her.

He held out his hand. ‘Ah … My name … Jiang Baofu.’ His English was hesitant, but he was determined to persevere. ‘Medical student … Read about you in paper, Miss Cambo.’

Reluctantly she shook his hand.

‘How do you do?’

‘Ah … very well, thank you.’ He bowed slightly. ‘You … mmmm … very farmers, Miss Cambo.’

She frowned. ‘Farmers?’

He nodded enthusiastically. ‘ Very farmers.’ And she realised suddenly that he meant ‘famous’.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

‘Oh, yes. I … mmm … wanna be pathologist like you.’ He smiled, still nodding enthusiastically. ‘I … mmm … night watchman, where they find bodies.’

And Margaret was immediately on her guard. She had thought, initially, that the young man was harmless enough, but now she had major misgivings. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘you are a material witness and we shouldn’t be talking.’

She strode off across the lobby, but he hurried after her. ‘I like to help,’ he said. ‘I like to help investigation. I like to help you.’

She spun around. ‘Just how did you know where to find me?’ she asked.

‘Oh …’ he said. ‘I give statement at 803. Aaa-ll day. I … mmm … follow you to hotel.’

Margaret was distinctly unhappy now. She looked at him again. She saw that despite the almost cringing obsequiousness of his demeanour, he was a powerfully built young man. He had a strong physical presence, and his lack of confidence was only in his English. ‘I think you should go,’ she said, and turned away. But he caught her arm, and she felt the strength of his fingers as they bit into her bare flesh.

‘No, no … I only wanna help,’ he said.

She pulled her arm free. ‘Don’t ever touch me again,’ she said dangerously, and with more confidence than she felt.

‘Lady in need of assistance?’ She turned at the sound of the voice on her right hand and felt a huge wave of relief to see the familiar smiling face of Jack Geller.

‘Yes,’ she said, trying to remain composed. ‘I was looking for the bar.’

‘Then you found the right man to take you there,’ he said. He glanced at Jiang Baofu, then steered her away past the currency exchange to a narrow wooden staircase leading up to a small mezzanine bookshop. ‘What was all that about?’ he asked.

She shrugged it off. ‘Nothing.’

‘Didn’t look like nothing to me.’

‘Believe me, women alone in hotels are always getting pestered.’ She looked around at the rows of books and racks of magazines. ‘Actually, when I said “bar” I was thinking more of something that sold booze, not books.’

He grinned. ‘Keep walking.’ They passed along a narrow corridor where tall, elaborate glass and wrought-iron lampstands stood sentinel. On one side there were large semi-circular stained-glass windows from floor to ceiling, on the other a marble balustrade protecting a view down into the well of the reception lobby below. The bar opened out before them. Big, comfortable armchairs and sofas gathered around low coffee tables, windows along one side looked down on to the lounge.