Peter May - The Killing Room

Li looked at Margaret afresh, with the admiration and respect he always had for her when she was doing her job. Her observation of detail, her insightful interpretation, the breadth and range of her knowledge and experience. He had never worked with anyone quite like her. It reminded him of why he felt about her the way he did, when by any other measure she was a very difficult person to love. That, and the acute vulnerability that lay beneath her well-polished veneer of cynicism and acid wit.

Mei-Ling was also clearly impressed, although endeavouring not to show it. ‘Could be worse,’ she said. ‘Three possible clues to identity out of … how many autopsies?’

‘Six,’ Margaret said. ‘And you’re right. It could be worse. You could still be labouring under the illusion that the victims had all died a natural death.’ She switched off the lightbox and slipped the x-rays back in the envelope. ‘In fact, we are now looking at yet another possible cause of death.’

‘Oh?’ Mei-Ling was still stinging from the force of Margaret’s rebuke. She glanced at Li, but he appeared to be oblivious.

‘What is that?’ he asked.

‘The midazolam,’ Margaret said. ‘It’s quite commonly used in minor surgical procedures as a sedative to produce amnesia of the procedure … if you were having a tooth pulled, or a burn scrubbed out, a scope put down your throat, or even …’ she glanced at Mei-Ling, ‘… if you were having an abortion.’ She paused for a moment, but Mei-Ling was not rising to the bait. ‘Like I said, it would be used in small, frequent doses. In a high dose, though, it can cause cardiac arrest. So that might well have been a quick and easy way of finishing the victims off at some point during the procedure.’

‘But since we don’t have the hearts to hand, you can’t say for sure,’ Mei-Ling said.

‘Having the heart available wouldn’t help,’ Margaret corrected her. ‘It would take about twelve hours for the heart tissue to show a visible reaction — and none of these women lived that long. It’s the tox that’s important here.’

She returned to the table to complete the final elements of the autopsy. ‘With four of us taking three autopsies each, we should be through the rest of them by tomorrow night. Although it will be a day or two before all the results are back from toxicology.’ She peeled the woman’s scalp back from the skull. ‘By the way, I’ve got dinner reservations for us tonight at the Dragon and Phoenix restaurant on the eighth floor of the Peace Hotel. Apparently it has wonderful views of the Bund.’ She glanced up at Li and said, pointedly, ‘A table for two, that is. We haven’t had a chance to talk since I got back from the States.’

Li glanced at Mei-Ling uncomfortably. But she smiled sweetly. ‘Yes,’ she said to Margaret, ‘it is a wonderful view. You should make the best of the limited time you have. After all, you will be leaving for Beijing the day after tomorrow.’

‘Will I?’ Margaret looked at Li.

‘Had you not told her?’ Mei-Ling said.

Li said quickly, ‘I need you to look at the body we found in Beijing, Margaret. I have asked them to translate the original autopsy report, and the body has been out of the freezer for two days now. So another couple of days and it will be thawed.’

‘I see.’ Margaret turned back to the severed head. She could not meet Mei-Ling’s eyes. Although Margaret knew Mei-Ling could not have arranged it this way, it still felt like she had somehow won a battle of wills.

Li said, ‘And I need to ask you a favour.’ When Margaret did not look up he elucidated. ‘I would like you to collect Xinxin and bring her back down with you.’

Margaret’s face immediately lit up at the prospect, and she looked at Li with shining eyes. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Is she with Mei Yuan?’

He nodded. ‘You will need to pick her up at nursery school. One of the kindergartens here in Shanghai has agreed to take her temporarily. My hotel has been able to give her an adjoining room, and I am paying a babysitter to look after her in the evenings, and weekends if I am working.’

‘That’s great,’ Margaret said. ‘We’ll be able to spend some time with her.’

‘Yes,’ Li said enthusiastically. ‘Mei-Ling managed to fix everything up for me here in Shanghai. She loves kids, too. So Xinxin won’t be short of people to play with her.’

And Margaret’s face clouded again. It felt like Mei-Ling was invading every part of her space. ‘That’ll be nice,’ she said with a tone, and switched on the oscillating saw to cut through the skull.

The room was small and square with plain, white-painted walls. The paint had come away in patches where papers or posters taped to the walls had been removed, leaving their outlines clearly visible, like ghosts. There was one square window on the back wall, giving out on to seedy-looking police apartment blocks, lights shining from hundreds of windows in the dark, wet night. There was a desk charred with cigarette burns, an uncomfortable-looking chair, and a single strip light hanging from the ceiling and casting a harsh glow around the room. This was to be Li’s home for the duration of the investigation. Like Section Chief Huang, it did not exactly feel welcoming. Next door was the audio-video room, and the sound of tapes being run and re-run boomed through the wall. The detectives’ room was at the far end of the corridor, and Mei-Ling’s office was beyond that.

‘It’s not much,’ she said. ‘But someone loved it. He didn’t want to leave it.’

‘Should I know who it was?’ Li asked.

She shook her head. ‘Better not.’

There was a sharp rap on the open door, and they turned to find Detective Dai standing there clutching an armful of files. ‘There’s a call for you, boss,’ he said to Mei-Ling.

She nodded and said to Li, ‘Talk to you later.’

When she was gone, Dai put the files on to Li’s desk where there were already several dozen piling up. He glanced at Li, somewhat uncertainly. ‘I read up about those serial killings you solved in Beijing,’ he said, and Li realised that Dai was a little in awe of him. ‘Pretty smart bit of detective work.’

‘I got lucky,’ Li said. ‘And even luckier still to be alive.’

Dai nodded. ‘I knew Duanmu Hongyu,’ he said. Li frowned, trying to remember where he’d seen the name. Then it came back to him. The ebony bust in the courtyard. Duanmu Hongyu had been a famous Shanghai detective working out of 803. Dai was trying to impress him. ‘He kind of took a fatherly interest in me, you know. A kind of mentor. He was a great guy.’

Li nodded and rounded his desk to pull up his chair and sit down. He fumbled in his pockets for his cigarettes, but Dai had a pack out before he could find them. Li took one and Dai lit it. As Dai lit his own, Li asked him, ‘What age are you, detective?’

‘Twenty-eight, Chief,’ Dai said.

‘I’m not a chief,’ Li told him. ‘Just a deputy.’

Dai nodded. ‘So, have they got many women in the department in Beijing?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’

‘I mean, high-ranking. You know, like Deputy Section Chief Nien.’

‘Not right now,’ Li said.

Dai nodded sagely and drew on his cigarette. ‘Women are okay, I guess. They can hold up as much sky as they want, but they’re a bastard to work for.’

‘Oh?’ Li was not going to comment, but he was interested to hear what Dai wanted to say.

Dai rested one butt cheek on the edge of Li’s desk. ‘Yeah, you know, sex always comes into it. You can’t get away from it. I mean, Mei-Ling, she’s all right. But she’s got this thing for senior officers. You know, like rank or something turns her on. Like she looks down on the rest of us, ’cos we’re not good enough for her.’