The Gem Show by R. Tuttle

A long time ago the green elephant had been taken from him. Now, sixty years later, Sing Li was determined to get it back — at any cost!

Madame Chen was born Mai Ling in the year 1910 in a tiny hamlet in Northern China. The citizens of her village were simple, hard working folk who knew little of the world beyond the limits of their homes except for the grim, frightening stories of ruthless bandits who roamed the barren hills spreading havoc and death.

One such outlaw was Sing Li, who in 1920 was a tall, lean, hard faced stripling of nineteen with ten years of bandit activity behind him. Born of simple stock, he had been kidnapped at an early age and had learned all aspects of the bandit’s trade from the notorious Wong Ho. When Ho was killed in 1919 by government soldiers, Sing Li took over the band and continued to terrorize the hills. His constant companion was a hand sized gem shaped like an elephant that hung on a chain around his neck. Hand ground, the piece boasted hundreds of flat surfaces that literally shattered light into an everchanging spectrum of beautiful colors. Sing had stolen it from a rich merchant at the tender age of fourteen and it was said by his men that this gem was the only real love in Sing Li’s life. He was known as the evil one with the green elephant to his victims.

In August of 1920, Sing Li and his band of cutthroats attacked Mai Ling’s village.

The village elders and youth were not fighters so the battle, if indeed it could be called a battle, was shortlived. Mai Ling’s mother managed to hide ten year old Mai but was caught by the lustful Sing Li in a clearing in back of her home.

Mai Ling watched in horror and disbelief as her mother was first ravished then killed by the mad animal called the evil one with the green elephant.

After the bandit’s orgy had run its course, they began to drink and soon were fighting among themselves for the pitiful loot from the village. Sing Li, drunk from rice wine was sitting in the clearing near the body of Mai Ling’s mother lost in admiration of the green elephant. Over and over, he vowed he would take it to his grave.

He fell asleep.

Mai Ling waited several minutes, then crawled out of the bushes and after first touching her mother’s dead face reverently, crawled over to the sleeping Sing Li. Her small, delicately featured face was tense with both sorrow and hatred. The green elephant gleamed at her in the moonlight.

He had taken her mother so she would take the elephant.

His head was slumped over his chest and he was leaning back against a tree. Her small hands quickly removed the elephant and chain from his neck. She saw a stubby dagger on the ground nearby. Anger flared in her face. She picked up the knife and was about to plunge it into his chest when his eyes suddenly opened.

They stared at each other for an instant, then he grabbed her arm.

“Pig!” he snarled.

Mai Ling leaned forward and clamped her teeth hard on his wrist. With a cry of pain, he let go of her arm. Mai darted off into the darkness, dropping the knife but clutching the green elephant.

Sing Li glanced down at his bleeding wrist, then tried to rise but the rice wine had taken its toll on his legs. He was too drunk to do anything but shout threats into the darkness.

A few days later, Mai Ling was found by government soldiers and taken to a British Mission where she stayed for many years. A highly intelligent girl, she quickly learned English and the ways of the Western world, yet managed to maintain her own identity. At eighteen, she was a beautiful young lady with ambitions far beyond the scope of the small Mission so she joined a Merchant’s caravan and went to Hong Kong. There, she quickly found work in a British household and in 1933, married a gem merchant many years her senior. She worked closely with her husband and soon became an expert in the gem trade.

And she still had the green elephant.

In 1936, her husband died of a heart attack leaving her with two small sons, Y and Fong, and a rich bank account. The talk now was of war and the possibility that the invaders might attack Hong Kong. Mai Ling, now Madame Chen, left Hong Kong and went to San Francisco where she set up a gem shop on Grant Avenue. Her two sons went to school and she became a businesswoman to be reckoned with.

She kept the green elephant in a locked glass case in her office just off the shop. She gazed at it often, remembering the ruthless Sing Li and how he murdered her mother. Sometimes while sleeping she would dream about him. In her dream, she would have a gun and would shoot him as he pleaded for his life. During her waking hours, she often thought about him. Where was he? Was he dead?

Sing Li wasn’t dead. In 1923, he had been arrested and condemned to death. However, when the guards came to get him they found an empty cell with a barless window. After several months he surfaced in Singapore where he found work with a British Firm. He had a quick mind so he soon picked up the King’s English even to the point of speaking with a slight British accent. He also made it a point to learn how to read and write his new language. Although a good worker and personable, he was still Sing Li the bandit so he made contact with the mob hierarchy and soon became adept at playing both sides of the game.

In 1937 he became tired of the constant battle for survival in both worlds and signed aboard a freighter bound for San Francisco. Moments after the ship docked, he slipped ashore, changed his name to Tom Lee and disappeared in Chinatown. He had no trouble finding work. His knowledge of English and his various talents — some questionable — opened many doors. He soon found himself getting rich in the herb business. A brush with the law in 1939 sent him to New York City where he changed his name to Lee Chau and started an import business in exotic herbs and oils.

Oddly enough, while in San Francisco, he had lived two blocks away from Madame Chen’s shop. In fact, he had often passed her as she stood in the shop doorway having her morning tea and cigarette. Neither was aware that the other was in San Francisco. Tom Lee was a well dressed, distinguished looking gentleman, a far cry from the uncuth, shabbily attired Sing Li and of course, Madame Chen was a beautiful mature woman. It is quite possible that they, on occasion, had murmured good morning to each other in soft Cantonese as he passed her shop.

The years went by and in 1956, Madame Chen, still obsessed by the notion that Sing Li might possibly be within reach of her revenge, hired a private detective named Sam Riley to try to find Li. An ex-cop of forty-five, Riley was a good private eye but he had some misgivings about taking a job to find a bandit named Li in Northern China. However, he plunged into the task and with the help of friends in Hong Kong and Singapore — and considerable luck — managed to trace Sing Li to the freighter that brought him to San Francisco. From that point on, the trail evaporated.

Madame Chen was delighted with the information. “Mr. Riley, you are a fine detective,” she said, giving him a magnificent check. Her face dropped. “But, now what? He may have changed his name.”

“Probably has — several times. I dunno, Mrs. Chen. I had a lot of luck so far.” He paused. “You know — that green elephant thing. He’d probably like to get it back.”

“Yes,” Madame Chen said thoughtfully. She nodded her head slowly. “Mr. Riley, to borrow an American expression — I will carry the ball from now on.”

“Gotcha,” grinned Riley. “Thanks for the job and the check. You’re a nice lady — and good looking too.”

“Thank you.” She smiled.

The next month, Madame Chen gave her first gem show which she advertised in all the local newspapers. The turnout was small the first month but as the months wore on, each monthly show brought out more prospective customers. Her oldest son, Y, was now a lawyer in Los Angeles while the younger Fong had stayed to help his mother run the business. He was a handsome, softspoken man with an artistic bent so the shows became better and better.

As always, amid the display of gems and artifacts, stood the glass case containing the green elephant with the sign — NOT FOR SALE.

Years rolled by rapidly but Lee Chau never visited the shop. If he had even heard of Madame Chen, he ignored the name. He was much too busy making money and putting competitors out of business by fair means or foul. He married, had a family and became rich.

Many rich gentlemen came to Madame Chen’s shows and admired the green elephant. A few wanted to buy it — at her price. But she would always smile and shake her head. She was certain that none of them bore any resemblence to the bandit from Northern China.

In 1981, Lee Chau, alias Tom Lee, Nee Sing Li was eighty-one years old and decided to retire although he was in fairly good health despite his girth and poor eyesight. His mind was as sharp as ever and he began to spend some of his money collecting gems and artifacts. This decision was prompted somewhat by the memory of the green elephant. Even now, when he thought about the gem and how the little pig of a girl had stolen it, he was almost consumed with anger. Why had he been such a fool to fall asleep that night! The memory of Mai Ling’s mother and his conquest of her had faded into obscurity as had all his female conquests but the green elephant literally leered at him from the depths of his mind.

It was then that a business acquaintence told him about a little old lady who sold gems in San Francisco.

“And Friend Chau,” the man said. “I have heard that she has a priceless gem of great beauty which is not for sale.”

Lee’s interest was aroused immediately. He had purchased many articles that “were not for sale”. He had always found a way to get what he wanted.

“Thank you for the information,” he said. “I shall visit San Francisco and this — Madame Chen.”

On the following Monday, Lee Chau boarded a jet for San Francisco. He arrived that evening and picked up his reservation at the Mark Hopkins Hotel, reflecting that when he had left the Singapore freighter so many years ago, his first job had been kitchen boy at the Mark Hopkins.

After supper, he took a cab to Grant Avenue and located Madame Chen’s shop. Yes — he used to walk by the shop almost every day when he last lived in San Francisco. He remembered. There was this attractive woman — could that have been Madame Chen? No matter — at his age, women were out of the question.

There were lights on inside the shop and the door was still open so he stepped inside and looked around at the dazzling display of gems and artifacts.

A soft voice drew his attention. The speaker was Madame Chen and the words were in English. “We are about to close, Sir.” At seventy, she was a trim, still attractive woman with gray hair and sparkling eyes. There were very few lines on her face.

The two had come face to face again after a span of sixty-one years but neither was aware of the other’s identity. Lee Chau was no longer young and lean but old, rotund and somewhat bent over from age while Madame Chen bore no resemblence to the ten year old Mai Ling.

Lee bowed slightly. “You have a magnificent display of gems,” he said in rumbling Cantonese. “I — am a collector of fine gems and artifacts.”

She smiled and answered in her lilting native tongue. “I plan to have a gem show tomorrow. Perhaps you will honor me with your presence. I am Madame Chen.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame Chen,” Lee said, continuing in Cantonese. “I am Lee Chau from New York and your show is the reason for my visit to your beautiful city.”

“I will look forward to seeing you,” she said. “You have the accent of Northern China.”

He nodded. There was no point in dwelling on the youthful Sing Li so he quickly reverted to English. “I was raised in Singapore and my parents insisted that I learn the mother tongue as well at the King’s English.”

“I see.” She smiled faintly. “Yes — there is some British in your excellent English. Amazing — a Chinese gentleman who talks like a member of the British Foreign Office.”

Lee laughed. A fascinating woman, this Madame Chen. “I must return to my hotel now.” He had decided not to mention the green gem at this point. He must look at it first. “Good evening, Madame Chen.”

He bowed and left.

Madame Chen turned to her son, Fong who had been standing behind the counter and spoke in crisp English. “Mr. Chau speaks Chinese like a native. He didn’t learn that in Singapore.”

“Just as you say,” smiled Fong.

She went into her office and lighted a cigarette.

The next day at one o’clock, Lee Chau walked down to Grant Avenue. After a quick lunch in a small cafe, he went to Madame Chen’s shop. The aisles were crowded with shoppers looking at the displays and bargaining with the two clerks. He was about to light a cigarette when he saw the green elephant.

It was in a satin lined box which was in a glass case under a diamond studded Buddha — just as he remembered it. He dropped the unlighted cigarette on the floor and broke out in a cold sweat. Light from overhead had turned the elephant into an array of colors all riding on top of the green. It was his green elephant! Where had this old woman gotten it?

He walked slowly toward the case and saw the sign.

Of course it wasn’t for sale. It was his — stolen from him.

“Mr. Chau?” Madame Chen was standing behind him. “Welcome to my show.” She was wearing a red gown and two diamond ear rings hung just below her tightly groomed hair.

He turned. “Thank you.” He quickly regained his composure. “Are you sure that green emerald is not for sale?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t part with it. It’s been in my family for years.”

“Is it from China?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“May I examine it more closely?”

“If you wish.”

She opened the case with a small key and took out the satin lined box that held the gem. “There was a chain attached to it at one time but it was lost.” She held out the box.

Their eyes met and their hands touched as Lee’s fingers circled the box.

It must have been her eyes because Lee suddenly realized that this old woman was the same little girl who had stolen the elephant — and almost plunged a knife into his chest! If he hadn’t awakened when he did — he would never have awakened. She must be the daughter of that shapely young woman he’d caught — the memory flooded back for an instant.

None of this emotion showed on Lee’s face. He smiled and ran his fingers over the surface of the elephant just like he used to do so many years ago. The evil one with the green elephant, they used to call him. As his fingers fondled the gem surface he felt young again — like Sing Li used to feel.

“I will give you ten thousand dollars for it,” he heard himself saying.

She smiled. “It has no price, Mr. Chau.” She gently removed the box from his hands and put it back in the case. “I’m sorry.” She closed the case and locked the door. “You look pale. Are you feeling all right?”

“Oh yes,” Lee said, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “The beauty of the gem — as they say — got to me. You are certain that it isn’t for sale?”

“Quite certain, Mr. Chau.”

Lee had the feeling that further talk concerning the elephant would be useless. She wouldn’t sell it so he would simply have to take it. “I trust you keep this gem in a safe place at night.”

“Oh yes — I keep it in my office under lock and key. Would you care for a cup of tea? Then perhaps you might like to see my jade collection.”

“It would be a pleasure.”

He followed her through the crowd and into the office. A moment later, a girl brought tea and rice cookies and they sat down, she behind her desk and Chau in a chair.

After a sip of tea, Chau looked at her. “May I ask what part of China you are from?”

“I call Hong Kong my home. I came here to escape the war and decided to stay. It is a fine country.”

“Yes. It is,” agreed Lee. His mind was still on the green elephant. How could he get it? The young Sing Li would have just taken it but the old Lee Chau was lucky to move, much less steal something.

She looked at him closely. “I have the feeling that we have met before.”

He shook his head. “I doubt it. I have never been to Hong Kong. Perhaps we had better look at the jade collection. I must get back to my hotel soon.”

“Certainly.”

As he made comments about the jade collection, his mind still pondered the green elephant problem. He couldn’t steal it personally so he would have to hire a thief. But who? If he hired one locally, all details of the theft would be common knowledge within a few hours. He would have to hire someone from New York — and he knew just the man.

“Well,” she said finally, “that is my jade.”

“A beautiful collection and I may buy some — that is, if it’s for sale.”

“The jade — yes — the green elephant — no.”

He rose and bowed. “I’ll return in a day or so. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Mr. Chau.” She held out her hand.

He clasped it briefly and left.

Bradford Winchester arrived in San Francisco the next night at eight and immediately reported to Lee Chau at the Mark Hopkins. Winchester was a tall, slim, distinguished looking man of forty-five who could pass for a doctor, lawyer, college professor or just about any type and during his twenty year span as a con man or scam operator he had played all the roles mentioned and more.

He found Lee in the Tap Room sipping wine and smoking a cigarette. Lee bought him a scotch and soda and then told him about the green elephant leaving out some of the more violent details.

“Winchester, I want you to steal it for me.”

“Sounds easy,” Winchester said, sipping his drink. “How can I case Madame Chen’s shop?”

“I will take you there tomorrow. You are an old friend and wish to see the green elephant you have heard so much about.”

“Fine,” said Winchester. “What name shall I use?”

“Whatever.” Lee shrugged.

Winchester thought for a second. “Nolan... Croft. That’s good. And I’ll present myself as a gem collector.”

Lee nodded. “Just don’t lay it on too thick. That woman is no dummy. She probably knows more about gems than most gem collectors.”

“I’ll be careful. Now, let us discuss money.”

“Five thousand dollars,” Lee said.

“Six thousand plus expenses.”

Lee took a sip of his wine. Winchester was probably the best in his field. “I agree.”

“Good.” Winchester picked up the menu. “I think I’ll have a steak dinner. I’m hungry.”

Lee sighed. “Be my guest.”

The next morning at ten, Lee Chau and Winchester walked into Madame Chen’s shop and found Madame Chen in her office reading a Chinese newspaper at her desk. She looked up as they stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Chau — and friend. Come in and sit down.” She removed her reading glasses.

After the introductions were made, Winchester — or Croft — went into his act.

“I have heard a great deal about you, Madame Chen, and it is a pleasure to meet you at last. I must show you my gem collection sometime.”

“I would love to see it,” she said softly. “Mr. Croft.”

He cast a professional eye toward the green elephant glowing in its case. “Mr. Chau was telling me about this particular gem” He put on his glasses and peered into the case. “A fine example of emerald that appears to be common to certain parts of China.”

“Would you care to examine it more closely?” she asked.

“Yes. If you would be so kind.”

She rose and went over to the case. A moment later, she carefully placed the gem on the desk in front of Winchester and Lee.

Winchester then extracted a tiny magnifying glass from his coat pocket, bent down and peered at the gem through the glass for almost a minute. Lee and Madame Chen, their faces devoid of any expression, watched. Finally, he straightened up.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand for it, Madame,” Winchester said.

Lee’s eyes flickered slightly while Madame Chen’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry — Mr. Croft. Your offer is quite flattering but — I cannot sell it.” She picked up the gem and put it back into the case.

Winchester smiled. “I don’t blame you. I trust you keep it under lock and key at all times.”

“Oh — I do,” smiled Madame Chen. “Would you be interested in seeing some valuable jade?”

“Of course,” said Winchester.

Lee Chau sighed. As Number one son might have put it, Winchester was a crock.

That night was one of those miserable, foggy nights so common to San Francisco in the winter season. A heavy fog had rolled under and over the Golden Gate Bridge and had spread itself over the city turning walkers into ghosts and buildings into giant gravestones. It was a perfect night for killers, muggers — and Winchester to carry out his six thousand dollar caper. Attired in black — even to a black cap — he made the turn on Grant Avenue at exactly three in the morning. Several minutes later, he was standing in front of Madame Chen’s shop. An occasional car went by and the sidewalk traffic was sparse, limited to a few staggering drunks.

An expert on locks and doors, he quickly removed the lock and cut the wire connected to the burglar alarm. So far — a piece of cake. He then opened the door softly and stepped inside. He stood for several minutes and listened. Madame Chen and son slept upstairs. Satisfied with the silence, he then slipped down the aisle to the office and found it unlocked. Nice of Madame Chen to leave it unlocked. He slipped a tiney flashlight out of his pocket and a moment later, the green elephant was flashing back at the feeble ray of the flashlight.

It took exactly eight minutes to open the lock on the case — one of those cursed Oriental locks! He pulled out the box containing the elephant, closed the cover and then filled his pockets with some of the more interesting looking gem studded artifacts in the room. They would look good in his New York apartment.

He then slipped quietly out of the shop and into the dirty night.

Lee Chau, at the tail end of a bottle of wine and several packs of cigarettes, was waiting impatiently when Winchester walked into the hotel room.

“Nothing to it, Mr. Chau,” he bragged. He opened the box and held up the exposed elephant.

“Give it to me!” exclaimed Lee, showing unusual emotion.

“The money first. Six thousand five hundred dollars.”

Lee snorted in disgust and handed Winchester an envelope, then dug five one hundred dollar bills out of his wallet. “There. Now get back to New York on the first plane!”

Winchester counted the money, nodded and handed over the Elephant. Then, he left the room.

Lee couldn’t believe his eyes. After all these years! The green elephant had returned to its rightful owner! He fingered the cold, flashing surface, then carefully took it out of the box and squeezed it like Sing Li used to do.

He felt a pin prick — then another — he dropped the gem and looked in horror at his fingers. Little droplets of blood were oozing out of his fingers! The gem had a poison vial attached underneath. The old woman must have recognized him. He’d fallen victim to the bite of the cobra! He’d killed many enemies that way. He must get to a phone — a doctor—!

He slipped into oblivion.

A figure stepped into the room and quickly picked up the gem and box, and hurried out.

It was four-thirty three that same morning when Fong walked into Madame Chen’s office and put the green elephant in front of her. She was wearing a green night robe and smoking a cigarette. She was smiling.

Fong spoke. “Winchester is in San Francisco Airport at this moment waiting for his flight to New York. Chau is under the care of a doctor.”

She nodded. “Let Winchester go. The man is an artist and I admire artists even if they are thieves.”

“Are you certain that Chau is Sing Li?”

“Yes. He wears my teeth marks on his wrist. I was suspicious of him when I first met him and when he saw the green elephant, he paled and the marks became quite visible.” She touched the gem. “Ten years ago, I was told about Bradford Winchester so when Chau and he came in here —.” She shrugged. Then, she laughed. “When I first met your father — he was a real gem expert — I showed him the elephant and —.” She took a small hammer out of the desk drawer. “He said it was fine workmanship but made of a special type of green —.” She brought the hammer down hard on the gem — shattering it. “Glass.”

“Will Chau — Sing Li die?”

“No. It was not the bite of the cobra — merely the sting of the spider.” She pushed the green glass pieces into a wastebasket. “He will remember Madame Chen.”

And Sing Li did recover, a broken and frightened man who hurried back to his apartment in New York where he became a recluse, refusing to see or talk to anybody.