by Marele Day
‘Good evening, Charles.’
He started to advance towards her. She held her ground.
‘Where’s Alice? What have you done with her?’
‘Alice is here, she’s safe. I’m pleased to see you are showing some concern. More concern than you showed seven years ago. For me or Alice.’
‘I’m taking her home.’ Charles stepped towards the bedroom. Only one step then he halted abruptly.
‘No, Charles,’ said the woman, ‘I am taking her home.’ Both her hands were now visible. In one of them was a gun.
The moment froze. Charles stood there gaping, his mouth open.
Finally he spoke.
‘You’re not taking Alice out of the country. What sort of life can you offer her?’
‘A better one than she has with your mother.’ Each word leaden and as penetrating as a bullet.
‘Why didn’t you contact me?’ asked Charles, with a weakness born of despair.
‘Your mother would never have let me near Alice. You know that.’
‘Perhaps I could have intervened.’
He didn’t convince me.
‘Sure, Charlie,’ she said softly.
He hadn’t convinced her either.
She faltered a little, looking at the boy whose first love she had been, some love in her business of sex.
‘I need time with her,’ she said, imploring. ‘I’ve waited seven years for my child. I am her mother. She will love me. Give me this time, Charles.’
‘Kidnapping is no way to win her.’
‘She was well looked after.’
I thought of the broken finger. Sure. You play with crims, you get caught in the crossfire.
‘Your mother took her from me. She had no right to Alice, no right to my child.’
‘Alice is loved,’ said Charles.
‘Yes, and locked up in a temple.’
‘So you had her kidnapped.’
‘Do you think I could simply go to your house and ask for my child? I have worked for this. Every minute of the last seven years has been devoted to getting Alice back. I have used your mother’s money wisely. I have remade myself. I have made many important contacts. You remember the nights in my room in Kings Cross? You told me about the key; you thought it was stupid Chinese superstition. I made investigations; I found the men who wanted the power of the key. I told them I knew a way to get it.’
‘You put your own child up for ransom.’
‘No, Charles, I bought her back.’
She carefully backed into the bedroom and picked up the child, speaking to her in soothing tones. Then she picked up a large handbag. Charles made another move towards the bedroom. ‘I am taking my daughter home,’ said Tai May. ‘I do not think you will stop me.’
I didn’t think he’d stop her. Not with a gun pointed at him.
‘The keys to the car,’ she said to me. ‘Please put them carefully on the table.’
I did what I’d been told.
Tai May picked up the keys.
‘Leaving without James?’ I asked with as much sarcasm as I dared.
‘I have Alice back, I no longer require his services. Open the door, Charles.’
He opened it.
‘Stand away from it.’
He moved away.
‘Do not try to follow.’
She went out the door and locked it behind her.
‘Why didn’t you try and stop her?’ begged Charles.
He started ranging around the room. I wondered if he was going to tear his hair out.
‘I don’t like the nasty little imprint bullets leave. Besides, Alice probably has as much of a chance with Tai May as she has with your mother.’
He came back to the door, started banging on it, and shouting for help.
‘Calm down, Charles,’ I said. ‘Why don’t we just wait here quietly till the plane takes off? James Ho will be here in a minute. With the boxes your key opens. You should find him interesting. He knows all about silly old Chinese superstitions.’
‘My mother will be here in a minute as well,’ beamed Charles, triumphant.
I should have guessed. Those apron strings were too tightly bound for someone like Charles to break free of them. His one big chance and he blew it.
‘Well, we’ll want to be able to let her in, won’t we?’
I phoned the desk and asked them to come up to room 707. We’d been inadvertently locked in, I explained.
‘Now let’s sit down and have a drink. Orange juice or Scotch?’ I asked, getting the drinks that were still on top of the fridge.
‘Scotch,’ murmured Charles, slumping into the apricot-coloured lounge chair.
It wasn’t long before the hotel people were at the door unlocking it.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
The guy walked away.
‘Sorry about this, Charles, but I have to go. Enjoy your drink.’
I quickly moved out into the corridor and locked the door behind me. I had to get to the airport, and in a hurry. I had a feeling Mrs Chen might bypass Charles and go straight for Alice.
I took the lift down to the foyer and got in a waiting cab.
‘Airport.’
The driver nodded and slowly started to pull out of the driveway.
‘Can you speed it up a little?’ I said. ‘I’ve got a plane to catch.’
‘With no luggage?’
‘That’s right. No luggage.’
The departure lounge was full of the usual mixed feelings, those who wanted to go and those who didn’t want them to go. Young backpackers out to conquer the world, full of high hopes and expectations, businessmen and women with bland expressions.
I looked at the board indicating departures. There was a flight for Singapore now boarding.
Gate number six.
I bounded up the escalator.
Towards the end of the hall I could see the queue at passport control. Tai May was there with Alice.
But I was too late. Ahead of me, running towards the queue as fast as her high heels would allow, was Mrs Chen. And the chauffeur of the white Mercedes.
I ran, and watched Mrs Chen draw level with the queue. I started to call out. Then I stopped.
Everything stopped.
Mrs Chen reached her hand out to Alice. I heard the shot then saw Mrs Chen stagger back. There was a small round hole in the front of her blue dress just starting to show a trickle of blood.
Maybe I had expected her to go down in swirls of smoke and flame, the earth to cave in and buildings come tumbling down, but Mrs Chen just teetered backwards and slumped inelegantly to the ground, her foot twisted at an odd angle.
Tai May looked at the gun in her hand as if wondering how it had got there.
Then the security guards moved in, obscuring my view.
Carol wanted to know what all this had to do with the Chinatown bank robbery. I told her it had nothing to do with it. She wanted to know how my investigations were going in that department. I told her the trail was dead. She said she believed I was holding out on her. I said she could believe what she liked. She asked me about the child. I said she was now with her father. She asked me what had happened to my Chinese friend. I said I’d lost track of him. She asked me what I was doing at the airport in the first place. I told her I like to get lost in the crowd. She told me to keep myself available for further questioning. I said yes, I would do that.
POSTSCRIPT
Hong Kong
24 April 1988
Dearest Claudia,
My humble apologies for not having said goodbye to you before I left your country but, let’s say, my visa expired rather suddenly and I did not want to over-stay.
I had a very interesting talk with Charles Chen, whom I found in my hotel room when I returned from Cabramatta with the boxes. I had been hoping to find you. It could have been the continuation of a beautiful friendship. The boxes were a great help in convincing him that the story of the key was not simply superstition, and he kindly promised to
send me its photograph. He was surprised that you hadn’t mentioned its existence to me. Knowing you as I do from our brief but exciting encounters, I was not surprised.
So, you see, I managed to get not only a detailed description of the key but photographic evidence, in spite of your obstinacy about this matter. My father has examined the evidence closely and has had some success.
He has opened the first box.
Am I arousing your curiosity? I had hoped to arouse you in other ways, at your leisure. But I digress.
The clue to opening the boxes is in the six protrusions. Minutely inscribed on them are ancient Chinese symbols, similar to those found on oracle bones. My father finally deciphered them.
Pressing simultaneously on the pearl eyes of one of the dragons unlatches the first box.
But unfortunately, it seems that each box opens in a different way. My father has pressed and prodded but to no avail. And of course the photo is two-dimensional. We need to see the symbols on the other side of the protrusions to unlock the rest of the boxes.
For that we need the key itself.
We would like you to continue your search for it. I’m sure we could come to a happy arrangement, financial or otherwise. If fortune doesn’t appeal to you, perhaps fame does. You could go down in history as the woman who solved the case of the Chinese boxes.
Your partner in puzzle solving,
James Ho
Sydney
15 May 1988
Dear James,
I’m glad your stay here was so fruitful, and I don’t just mean the figs. If you’re ever over this way again give me a call. And I do mean call rather than just popping in.
If you’ve been in contact with Charles you probably already know that Tai May is standing trial for the murder of Victoria Chen. She is pleading extenuating circumstances and has named our Cabramatta friends, but they seem to have left the country. Keep an eye out, James Ho, they may turn up on your turf.
Nearly six months further down the track and still none of the bank robbery items have turned up. This includes the key. A reliable informant tells me the key is irretrievable, out of reach of anyone, of you or me.
And I’m not interested any more, nothing is worth that kind of trouble.
So you see, James, your offer of fame and fortune is an offer that I’ll have to refuse.
As far as I’m concerned the case is now closed.
Your partner in puzzle solving,
Claudia Valentine
PS: If you do come to Sydney again could you bring me a pair of those Italian leather shoes? I take size 7 and I like red.