Antonio Garrido - The Corpse Reader

21

Everyone in the room shot scornful looks at Cí. Gray Fox spat on the floor and turned his back on his partner.

Cí apologized and, in spite of the shock of seeing Kao’s corpse, gathered himself as best he could. He went up to the table to observe the other pairs at work. Whatever happened, he had to know how Kao had died.

The first pair pointed out the lack of apparent wounds, which led them to think the man couldn’t have died violently; perhaps, they said to each other, it had been a mere accident. The second pair focused on the small bite marks on the lips and eyelids—most likely from canal fish—and on details like Kao’s complexion and old scars, which Cí thought were unlikely to reveal the cause of death.

The second incense stick burned down, and it was their turn. Gray Fox approached the corpse as if he had all the time in the world—and as if the incense stick were measuring only his time and not Cí’s as well. Gray Fox circled the corpse and began his examination at the opposite end from what was typical—with the bluish feet. He palpated the knotty, muscular legs all the way up to the penis, which also appeared to have been nibbled by fish. Cí was watching the time closely; by the time a quarter of the incense stick had burned, Gray Fox hadn’t even examined the torso. Finally, he reached the head, and then asked Cí to help him turn the body over. Gray Fox was exasperatingly slow as he moved down the back of the body.

Cí glanced from the half-finished incense stick to Ming, but the professor was deep in conversation with one of the students and didn’t notice. By the time Gray Fox had finished, there was hardly any time left.

Having seen there were no wounds on the body, Cí followed his instinct and used his time to examine the head. He looked closely at the nape of the neck, the mouth, the eyes, the nostrils; failing to find any evidence of note, he moved on to the ears. Instantly he found something in the left one. Aware that the incense was about to burn out, he hurried over to his instruments to grab his forceps. But as he got back to the corpse, one of the guards stood in front of him; for a moment, Cí panicked that he’d been identified.

“Time’s up,” said the guard.

“But, sir,” Cí said to Ming, who had come back over. “Gray Fox used up much more than half our time.”

“Nothing I can do. The prefect is waiting.”

Cí looked around, desperate.

I have to find a way.

He bowed his acceptance and backed away, but left his forceps near the head. As everyone was filing out, he asked the guard if he could cover the corpse. Since Cí seemed to be acting out of respect, the guard let him.

As they left the Room of the Dead, Cí was satisfied.

On their way back to the academy, Ming apologized to Cí. “I wanted to give you more time, but it would have upset the prefect.”

Cí nodded. He was fully focused on the consequences of his discovery. The prefect, a dumpy, sweaty man, had impressed upon them the extreme confidentiality of the case and sent them off to write up their reports. They had two days—two days in which Cí would determine his fate.

At lunch, he hardly ate. Afterward they had to present their preliminary findings to Ming, and he still didn’t know what he should say. Surely the prefect knew what Kao’s job had been, but Cí didn’t know if the prefect knew—as he did—that Kao had been murdered. If he didn’t know, and Cí announced his conclusions, that would alert the authorities to the existence of a murderer, and Cí believed he would be the prime suspect.

He tried to swallow some food, but it lodged in his throat. The second pair was already meeting with Ming; soon it would be his and Gray Fox’s turn.

Gods, what should I do? What would father do?

A shove from Gray Fox jolted him out of his thoughts. It was time. Cí got up, straightened his clothes, and followed his partner.

It was Cí’s first time in Ming’s private study. He was surprised to find it so gloomy; there were no windows or paper screens to let in daylight. Old silks with anatomical pictures hung on the rosewood walls. Ming sat at an ebony desk consulting a volume in the semi-darkness, and from a shelf behind him a row of skulls peered out. The professor invited them to approach, and they both knelt down. Ming looked at them, and Cí noticed how weary his eyes were.

“I dearly hope you two have something useful to say. Your classmates haven’t drawn one sensible conclusion. I don’t think I’ve heard such a lot of nonsense in all my days. Well? What can you tell me?”

Gray Fox cleared his throat. He took out his notes and began.

“Most honorable Ming, I thank you with sincere humility for the opportunity—”

“Hold the sincere humilities and get on with it.”

“Of course, sir.” He cleared his throat. “But perhaps Cí should wait outside. As you know, a second judge shouldn’t have his judgment… influenced by another’s.”

“By the gods, will you just get on with it?”

Gray Fox cleared his throat again.

“The first thing to consider is why the case is surrounded by such secrecy. This is highly unusual, and it leads me to think that the deceased must have been a man of some importance, or had links with people of importance.”

“Go on,” said Ming, nodding.

“If that is the case, the next question is why the authorities would be interested in students’ opinions. We must assume that to ask us, they do not know the cause of death, or at least are unsure of their own conclusions.”

“Yes, yes, it could be.”

“Because he was already undressed, we lacked an important source of information, but at least we can surmise from the smoothness of his hands that he was no laborer. At the same time, his short nails tell us he wasn’t a literary person.”

“Good observation.”

“I thought so, too,” said Gray Fox, modest as ever. “And finally, as to the cause of death: The corpse showed no signs of violence, no bruises or wounds, nothing to suggest poisoning. Nor was there any excretion from any of the seven orifices that might have suggested the death was by unnatural causes.”

“And so…”

“And so, we ought to conclude that his death was caused by having fallen in the canal. In my view, the fact that he died of drowning is not the important thing; it’s that he died drunk, as indicated by the fact he was found clutching a liquor bottle.”

“Mm…” Ming’s interest gave way to a frown of disappointment. “Your conclusion, then?”

“Um…” Gray Fox was unsettled by Ming’s response. “As I was saying, the unfortunate man undoubtedly had an important office…His death, clearly unexpected, appeared to them a mishap, and that was what they called us in to confirm.”

Ming puffed out his cheeks. He thanked him and turned to Cí.

“What about you?” he asked, clearly not expecting much.

Gray Fox interrupted. “If we could see the deceased’s clothes, or talk to the person who found him—”

“It’s Cí’s turn now,” said Ming.

Cí stood up. Gray Fox had made the same decent observations he had planned to point out in order to withhold his own terrible discovery. Now, if he merely repeated what Gray Fox had said, he would seem like a dolt in Ming’s eyes. Nonetheless, that was exactly what he decided he had to do.