The Piano Teacher

July 3, 1953

LATER, SHE HEARD what had happened. Women who had never acknowledged her presence called her or stopped her in town, ostensibly to ask her how she was doing or tell her what had happened after she left, but really to find out her connection to the situation.

“They said he went out on the tennis court and put the gun in his mouth. Very messy. And you know, he only had the one hand. The hook, of course. Quite tricky. The amah found him. Had to be hospitalized herself with the shock. The servants always want to be a part of it, don’t they?”

“Poor Regina,” said Claire. She remembered the party she had been to, the one where she had met Will, with the Pimm’s and the boy and his father hitting the ball back and forth in their tennis whites. She tried to imagine Reggie Arbogast sprawled out on the grass, blood running out of his mouth. “Does anyone know why? Other than what was said…”

“He’d not been himself,” they would say. “Blamed himself for letting the collection disappear. And couldn’t stand to see all the fuss around the coronation, and all the patriotism. Made him feel awful. And I think he felt he was in some way responsible for the death of Trudy Liang.” A pause. “And did you know Trudy? Or Dominick?”

“No,” she would say. “They were gone before I even arrived. I just found out who they were recently.”

“Dominick was just terrible. He went through women like they were used handkerchiefs, although they say he liked both sides, if you know what I mean…”

Claire would wait patiently.

“And the Chens? They were just livid about how Will came in and ruined their party. I can’t believe you just left, darling, it was so dramatic! Melody was in hysterics, Victor tried to be cool, and Will, well, he controlled himself and left not long after you, leaving all of us gaping like fools. I’ve never seen anything like it. What a scandal! Were you close?”

“I don’t know much about that,” Claire would say. “You see, I was teaching Locket but didn’t have much contact with the Chens so I didn’t know them very well. They’d always been very kind to me.”

“Oh…” A sigh, down the telephone line, disappointed. “Well, they are really something.” A pause. “And are you… all right?”

“As well as can be expected,” she would say, or something of the sort.

“And…” And only a few of them could bring themselves to say it. “And Martin?”

And she would not answer, and the deepening silence would embarrass them into hurriedly filling it with small talk and fervent wishes to see her soon, to have tea, or to go for a walk.

They rang off shortly afterward and never called again. She wondered at their transparency.

The government wrapped up its investigation into the disappearance of the Crown Collection. Reggie Arbogast was posthumously honored with a commendation from the queen for his services to the English empire. Regina Arbogast sold the big house on the Peak to a Shanghainese merchant looking to relocate to Hong Kong and set sail for England. Victor Chen was not officially mentioned.