Poets and Murder

XIII

Judge Dee woke up early. He pushed open the sliding-doors and went to stand on the verandah in his nightrobe, to enjoy the fresh morning air. The rock garden was in shadow; a thin film of dew still covered the bamboo leaves.

No sound came from the residence behind him. Everybody seemed to be late. It must have taken the servants till long after midnight to tidy up after the banquet. From the tribunal compound in front, however, there came shouted commands, and the clatter of arms. The guards were going through the morning drill.

After a leisurely toilet the judge dressed in a wide robe of blue silk and put a square cap of stiff black gauze on his head. He clapped his hands and told the heavy-eyed boy servant to bring him a tea-basket and a bowl of rice gruel with pickles. The boy came back carrying a tray heaped with food: steaming white rice, assorted pickled vegetables, cold chicken, crab omelette, stewed bean curd, a bamboo box with fritter cakes, and a dish of sliced fresh fruit. Apparently such a luxu­rious breakfast was the rule in the residence. Judge Dee told him to move the table outside, under the eaves of the verandah. Just after he had started breakfast, a clerk brought him a sealed envelope. It was a note from his colleague: Elder Brother, The housemaster is taking the dancer's body to the Sapphire Bower. He shall impress on them that it is in their own interest to keep the case secret till tomorrow, when I shall deal with it in the tribunal. Please find en­closed a letter of introduction addressed to the lady in charge. Your ignorant younger brother, Lo Kwan-choong.

The judge put the letter in his sleeve and told the clerk to take him to the side entrance of the tribunal, explaining that he wanted to take a morning stroll. On the corner of the street he rented a small litter, and ordered the bearers to take him to the Sapphire Bower. Being carried through the streets, crowded with early market-goers, he wondered how his col­league had managed to keep the fact that the dancer was dead from his host of servants. Probably the wily old housemaster had made the necessary arrangements. The bearers lowered the chair in front of a simple black-lacquered door in a quiet, residential street. The judge was just about to tell them that it must be the wrong address, when he noticed the two letters 'Sapphire Bower' inscribed on a discreet small brass plaque on the doorpost.

When the surly gatekeeper had admitted him he found himself in a well-kept paved courtyard, decorated by a few flowering plants in basins of sculpted white marble. Over the red-lacquered double-gate at the rear was a white board, in­scribed in large blue letters 'Among the Flowers reigns Eternal Spring'. It was not signed, but the calligraphy resembled closely that of his colleague.

A broad-shouldered rascal with a pockmarked face accepted Judge Dee's letter with a dubious expression, but when he saw the large red stamp of the tribunal on the back, he made an obsequious bow. He led the judge along an open corridor lined by red-lacquered, carved balustrades, round a charming flower garden, to a small anteroom. Judge Dee sat down at the tea-table of polished sandalwood. The blue pile carpet was soft under his feet, and blue brocade hangings covered the walls. Smoke of ambergris curled up from the white-porcelain incense burner on the wall-table of carved rosewood. Through the open sliding-doors he could just see a corner of the two-storeyed building facing the garden. From the gilded lattice-screens along the balcony came the tinkling of zithers. Ap­parently the inmates were already at their music lessons.

A large woman in a black damask gown came in, followed by a demure maid carrying a tea-tray. Folding her hands in her long sleeves, the madame delivered a polite speech of wel­come. The judge took in her pasty face with the pendulous cheeks and the crafty, beady eyes, and decided he didn't like her. 'Has the housemaster of the residence already arrived?' He cut her harangue short.

She told the maid to put the tea-tray on the table and to leave them alone. Straightening her robe with her large, white hand, she said:

'This person profoundly regrets the unfortunate accident, sir. I do hope it did not inconvenience the honourable guests.'

'My colleague informed them the dancer only wounded her foot. Could you get me her papers?'

'I knew you would want those, sir,' she replied with a smirk.

She took a bundle of documents from her sleeve and handed them to the judge. He saw at once that there was nothing of special interest. Small Phoenix had been the youngest daughter of a vegetable dealer, sold three years ago for the simple reason that she had four elder sisters already, and her father couldn't afford any more dowries. The house had her taught to dance by a well-known teacher, and she had also received tuition in elementary reading and writing.

'Did she have any special friends among the customers, or among the inmates here?' the judge asked.

The madame ceremoniously poured him a cup of tea.

'As to the gentlemen who patronize this establishment,' she said quietly, 'nearly all of them knew Small Phoenix. Being a superb dancer, she was in great demand for parties. Since she wasn't exactly handsome, only a few elderly gentle­men solicited her special favours, doubtless attracted by her boyish figure. She always refused, and I refrained from exer­cising pressure on her, for she brought in enough by her dancing.' A slight frown appeared on her smooth white brow as she continued, 'She was a quiet girl, never needed any cor­rection, and was most diligent about her dancing lessons. But the other girls hated her, they said she ... smelled, and that she was really a vixen that had assumed human shape. It's an onerous task, sir, to preserve order among all those young women... . Asks for much patience, and kind con­sideration of ...'

'She didn't engage in a bit of blackmail now and then?'

The madame raised her hands in protest.

'I beg your pardon, sir!' she exclaimed, giving him a re­proachful look. 'All my girls know that the first who would dare to try anything irregular would find herself standing stripped at the whipping post, at once! This house has an old-established reputation, sir! Of course she accepted tips, and ... well, it seems she was rather skilful in raising the amount, by ah ... various but wholly acceptable means. Since she was an obedient girl, I allowed her to visit sometimes the strange woman who acts as guardian of the Black Fox Shrine. Only because she taught Small Phoenix interesting songs that proved popular with the guests.' She compressed her thin lips. 'All kinds of vagabonds hang about in the neigh­bourhood of the South Gate, sir. She must have struck up an undesirable acquaintance there, and it was he who perpetrated this cruel crime. Goes to show one should never let those girls out of sight. If I think of the good money I invested in her dancing lessons, and ...'

'Talking about the guardian of the fox shrine, was it from this house she escaped, formerly?'

For the second time the madame gave him a reproachful look.

'Certainly not, sir! That girl had been sold to a small place near the East Gate. A very low-class house, frequented by coolies and other scum. A ... a brothel, sir, with your permission.'

'I see. Did Small Phoenix ever mention that the guardian of the shrine was not an orphan, and that her father was still living in this city?'

'Never, sir. I once asked the dancer whether the woman ever received gentlemen ... callers, but she said she was the only one who ever visited the shrine.'

'The poetess Yoo-lan was greatly distressed about the dan­cer's demise. Was there any special interest, on either side?'

The madame lowered her eyes.

'The honourable Yoo-lan was visibly impressed by the dan­cer's shy, youthful deportment,' she replied primly. Then added quickly, 'And by her great talents, of course. I am most tolerant of female friendships, sir. And since I had the honour to know the poetess in the capital, formerly ...' She shrugged her heavy shoulders.

Judge Dee got up. While the madame was conducting him to the gate, he remarked casually:

'His Excellency the Academician, the Honourable Chang Lan-po and His Reverence Loo were all disappointed not to see Small Phoenix dance. They must have seen her perform before, I imagine.'

'That seems hardly possible, sir! Those two illustrious per­sons honour this district with a visit sometimes, but they never partake in any public or private parties. It's the talk of the town that they have accepted His Excellency's invita­tion this time! But His Excellency Lo is such a wonderful man! Always so kind and understanding... . What was the name of the religious gentleman you mentioned, sir?'

'It doesn't matter. Good-bye.'

Back in the tribunal, Judge Dee had a clerk announce him to Magistrate Lo. He found his colleague in his private office, standing in front of the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned round and said listlessly:

'Hope you slept well, Dee. As for me, I had a rotten night! One hour after midnight I crept into the main bedroom, thought that was my best bet for a good night's rest, for my First Lady always goes to sleep early. But I found her wide awake, with my Third and Fourth standing in front of her bed, shouting at each other! My First said I had to resolve their quarrel. In the end I had to accompany my Fourth, and she kept me awake for another hour, telling me in great detail how the quarrel had begun!' Pointing at the large official envelope on his desk, he added dramatically, 'That letter was brought for you by a special messenger from the Prefecture, If it's a summons from the Prefect, I'll jump into the river!'

Judge Dee slit the letter open. It was a short official notice that, the Prefect not requiring his presence, the judge should return to his post without undue delay. 'No, I am ordered back to Poo-yang. I'll have to leave here tomorrow morning, at the latest!’

'Heaven preserve me! Well, that leaves us today, at least. What did you find out from the madame?'

'Only facts that aggravate the case against Yoo-lan, Lo. First, the poetess did indeed conceive a liking for the dancer. Second, none of our three guests has ever visited the Sapphire Bower and the madame thought it most unlikely any of them had ever met the dancer before.' As the small magistrate nodded morosely, he asked, 'Do you know what our guests' plans are for this afternoon?'

'At four we'll gather in the library, to read and discuss together my latest volume of verse. And to think I had been looking forward to that session so eagerly!’ He sadly shook his round head.

'Do you think that your housemaster's men are good enough at their job to follow one of your guests, should he go out after the noon rice?'

'Good heavens, Dee! To follow them, you mean?' Then he shrugged resignedly. 'Well, my career is probably ruined anyway. Yes, I think I could take the risk.'

'All right. I also want you to order the sergeant in charge of the South Gate to post two armed guards in one of the street-stalls opposite the entrance to the wasteland, to keep an eye on the gate. Let them arrest anyone who wants to visit the Black Fox Shrine. I wouldn't want anything un­toward to happen to that poor girl there, and I might need the men when I go there myself, this afternoon. Where are your guests now?'

'They're having breakfast. Yoo-lan's with my First Lady. That gives me time to take you to the chancery archives, Dee!’

He clapped his hands, and when the headman appeared, he ordered him to proceed personally to the South Gate and instruct the sergeant of the guard. On his way out he was to tell Counsellor Kao that he was wanted in the archives.

The magistrate took Judge Dee through a maze of corridors to a cool, spacious room. The walls were covered up to the lofty, coffered ceiling with broad shelves, loaded with red leather document boxes, ledgers and dossiers. There was an agreeable smell of wax, used for polishing the boxes, and of the camphor strewn among the papers to keep insects away. At one end of the huge trestle table in the centre of the red-tiled floor, an old clerk was sorting out some papers. At the farthest end Sexton Loo sat bent over a file.