Murder at Seething Wells (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 5)

by P. J. Thurbin

  “Well you seem to have got more out of the girl than either our people or the French authorities. It puts a whole new light on Stephen Chen’s activities and confirms some of our ideas as to who might have had cause to harm him. I’ll certainly be calling on Dr. Ryan Miller to ask him why he failed to tell us about having worked with Stephen Chen in Singapore.”

  “Is it possible that Miller could have known you were going to see Ms Lei?” Ralph interrupted.

  “No, that’s impossible. There’s no way he could have known. After all, I didn’t know myself that I was going to see her until the day before.”

  “Damn hot in here. These old boilers only pour out the heat full blast or else they’re stone cold.” The Inspector loosened his tie and took off his jacket and motioned for Ralph to do the same before he continued. “So we can rule out any involvement by Miller in the break-in and the shooting of Ms Lei in Paris. And I can see why he was reluctant to mention that he had worked with Stephen Chen in Singapore. From what you told me about the tests they conducted there, it would be a blot on his career prospects here in the UK. Still, he should have told me.”

  “But do you think the two murders are linked?” Ralph pressed. In his mind he thought it was highly unlikely that it was merely coincidental, but one never knew. “And are you still looking at that terrorist group as being involved in Chen’s murder?”

  “Naturally we haven’t ruled it out. Interpol is handling the enquiries about possible links to terrorism in Singapore that Chen might have been mixed up in. We’ve also spoken with the Chinese Embassy and the banks about tracing the source of large sums paid into Stephen Chen’s account. But apart from possible currency irregularities, that hardly constitutes a serious crime.”

  “No, but it might shed some light on who may have had an interest in silencing him,” Ralph offered.

  “Possibly. I understand you know Claus Stein,” Linham probed.

  “I wouldn’t say that I know him exactly,” Ralph replied. “But my colleague, Ms. Eggerton and I were his guests at Henley in July. Why? Is he part of your investigation?”

  “As you are aware, we try to leave no stone unturned. Mr. Stein has been very co-operative with our enquiries.”

  Ralph was concerned that the Inspector had either missed the point or was deliberately being obtuse in order to push him into revealing more than he intended.

  “Look Inspector, I agree that it appears to be nothing new, but I think that the break–in at Chen’s office at the University was linked to what happened to Li Mei. Someone wanted something that was in Li Mei’s apartment. She told us that her laptop had been stolen as well as some personal papers. When they saw what was there they decided that she had to be silenced. I think it was the same motive behind the break-in at Kingston, and possibly perpetrated by the same person.”

  “But nothing was stolen from Stephen Chen’s office, and his emails at the University would still be on the system or in this so called ‘cloud’. Our technical bods have checked all that out and there is nothing there that sheds any new light on the case or incriminates anyone.” The Inspector reached for his tea and then leant back again, obviously waiting for anything else Ralph had to say.

  “With all due respect, Inspector, that still does not explain why Li Mei was shot. It could hardly be a random shooting in broad daylight in a busy Paris street. First Stephen Chen is murdered, then her. I still think that whoever saw what was on her computer or in those papers decided to silence her just like Chen.” The Inspector drew in a breath and looked across at Sergeant Wilson.

  “Look Professor, I know that in the past your theories have proven to have some foundation, but here I’m afraid you are letting your involvement with this case and Li Mei get the better of you. Furthermore, the shooting of the girl is a matter for the French police. I accept that there are some links to the Stephen Chen case, but nothing unfortunately that brings us any closer to finding out who murdered him.” The Inspector reached over and opened a folder on his desk. “There is one other thing, Professor, while you are here. I must remind you that you have signed and are still bound by Her Majesties Official Secrets Act.”

  “Yes, of course.” Ralph recalled signing the Act when he worked with Linham on a previous case.

  “I understand that you intend to travel to Singapore in the near future.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” replied Ralph, wondering why it should concern them, and what on earth it had to do with Official Secrets. Linham looked down at the file as he continued.

  “It’s just that we understand that Interpol and the Anti-Terrorist agencies have been tracking Stephen Chen's links to the JI terrorist group in Singapore. Their investigations are part of a larger attempt to link things to other terrorist groups. As you know, this is a sensitive area as it involves co-operation between National Governments.”

  “Yes, I do understand all of that. But are you suggesting that it is inappropriate for me to travel to Singapore?” Ralph waited while the Inspector took a sip of tea and appeared to think carefully about what he was about to say.

  “No, of course not. But I would strongly advise you against making any enquiries about Stephen Chen or his activities while you are there. Apart from upsetting any ongoing investigations, the security laws there are very strict. The last thing I would want is to see you and Ms. Eggerton incarcerated in Changi Jail.”

  So they even have a track on me, thought Ralph as he struggled for a few moments to find a suitable response as Linham’s words sank in. He knew the risk he was running by talking to Chen’s parents, and now he was determined to find out just what Ryan Miller’s involvement in the failed SARS vaccination programme had been. He also felt some obligation to help find the people responsible for killing an innocent girl to cover up their activities. He looked up and saw that Inspector Linham was waiting for an answer.

  “Thank you, Inspector. There’s no hidden agenda behind my trip to Singapore. It’s a business trip organized by the University to set up some links between the NUS and Kingston. One of my colleagues is there now on sabbatical and as he and his wife are friends of mine and Ms. Eggerton, we thought we would tack on a few extra days for a visit.” He smiled inwardly at the thought of how Katie would react if she heard him refer to her as Ms. Eggerton. “The plan is to treat it as a bit of a holiday over the Xmas break.”

  “Sorry to bring it up, Professor, but you know how it is. The boss wanted me to have you come in special just to caution you about your trip to Singapore, but when I told him that you were stopping in to see me anyhow, he gave me the go ahead to mention it informally.” Ralph nodded and they moved on to safer ground. They chatted on about how the animal protest group had dropped their campaign and how the University students seemed better behaved in the town at night. The Inspector wished him a safe journey and asked Sergeant Wilson to show Ralph out.

  “I wish the department would send me overseas to follow up a lead. I might be able to persuade the Inspector that we need to go over to Paris, but that’s not nearly as exciting as Singapore,” Wilson said wistfully as he held the car door open for Ralph. “Most likely it’ll be trolling the Kingston High Street. Enjoy your trip sir.” It was nearly lunch-time when Ralph pulled into the staff car-park at the Gypsy Hill campus. He’d just have time for a quick bite before his afternoon lecture.

  ***

  Janice had arranged for Ralph to fly to Singapore via Paris where he would meet Katie. He was a bit taken aback when she told him the cost to upgrade the tickets from economy to first class, but reminded himself that he no longer needed to watch every penny and told her to go ahead. He could consider it an early Christmas present to Katie as well as to himself.

  It was 11.20 on a cold winter’s evening as Air France flight 256, an Airbus 380, roared down the runway at Charles de Gaul airport and climbed into the darkened snow-filled skies. With the ‘fasten seat belts’ notice switched off, they settled back into comfortable seats ready for the 14 hour flight. The plane wa
s soon winging its way through the night sky, leaving the European winter far behind. Singapore being eight hours ahead of Paris meant they would land around 7 in the morning which would minimize any jet lag. During the flight he had plenty of time to tell Katie what had transpired at the meeting with Linham. She agreed that while not deliberately setting out to break any laws or to ignore Linham’s warning, they should try to contact Chen’s parents and also find out what part Ryan Miller had played in the failed SARS experiments. Katie’s vote was that either the JI were involved in both murders or a Chinese pharmaceutical company had hired a contract killer to cover up their involvement with Chen. With an attentive cabin crew, good food and a full range of entertainment, it was not long before they had popped their seats to full recline and were snoozing the miles away. Before they knew it the pilot was on the intercom announcing that they were preparing to land.

  ***

  “Welcome to Singapore, Ralph, Katie,” said Peter as he shook hands enthusiastically with Ralph and gave Katie a hug.

  “If you think it’s muggy here in the airport, just wait until you get outside,” Marcia said as she hugged Katie. “I’m so glad you came. We have a lot to catch up on. I want to hear all about your job in Paris and of course Peter and I will try to be good tour guides to the city.” Peter grabbed their bags and headed for the car park. Ralph noticed that his friends were dressed like a couple of coffee planters from the 1920’s: Peter in a light cream linen suit and Marcia in a long cotton dress. He felt a bit out of place in his dark winter suit and overcoat. Both he and Katie had dressed for the weather at home, not thinking about the steamy heat that would greet them when they landed.

  “First thing tomorrow old sport we’ll get you to a tailor and kit you out with some lightweight gear.”

  “We did pack a few lightweight clothes, but we planned to top up our summer wardrobes while we were here. We thought we might as well take advantage of those fantastic tailors I’ve heard so much about,” Ralph replied as he threw his coat onto the baggage trolley.

  “In Orchard Road the shops are as fashionable as in London or Paris. You’ll be surprised,” said Marcia as they climbed into Peter’s car. Ralph glanced at Katie. She hated shopping with a passion and only a real emergency could get her into a store.

  As they drove out of the airport Ralph realized that it shared the same name as the infamous jail. He recalled Linham’s warning about finishing up in Changi Jail if he asked too many questions about Stephen Chen. Then there was Windham, whom Chen had sacked. He had mentioned that one of his relatives was imprisoned there by the Japanese when they overran Singapore in the early part of WW2. Peter jolted him out of his reverie.

  “I expect you’re both a bit tired after that flight,” said Peter as they weaved through the busy traffic. “I’ll get you straight to your hotel so you can have a bit of a rest and freshen up before we meet up for lunch. It’s only a short drive from the airport to the City. You may find Singapore a bit of a shock.”

  “Why is that?” Katie asked.

  “It’s the crowds. Singapore has a population of around 6 million but they are crammed into just 280 square miles. That’s over 20,000 of the poor buggers per square mile, thirty times the density of the UK and more than three thousand that of Australia. Needless to say, there’s not a lot of elbow room. You can see why the authorities need to run a tight ship. Not to make a pun.”

  They were in good spirits as they pulled up in front of Number 1 Beach Road and a bellhop rushed to open the car doors. Raffles rose majestically into the clear blue sky, its arched colonial architecture surrounded by tropical palms and bougainvillea in every shade from the palest pink to deep dark red and violet. Ralph remembered seeing some at the tropical glass house at Kew Gardens, but of course they were nothing like the display here.

  “We have loads of bougainvillea in the Northern Territories,” Katie remarked. “They’re like a lot of things, pretty until you get too close and then bang you’re jabbed with the thorns.” He was always thrown by the remarks that Katie made. It was a ridiculous thought, but he wondered if Katie was trying to tell him something. He shrugged it off as a touch of paranoia brought on by jet lag.

  Having made sure that they were safely booked in, Peter and Marcia agreed to meet them at the Hotel for lunch.

  “Give you two a chance to get to know each other,” Peter laughed as Marcia gave him a jab in the ribs.

  “Don’t mind him. It’s being surrounded by adoring young girls in his classes. I need to get him back on the bromide or something,” shouted Marcia as they waved goodbye.

  The concierge led them to their room. There was a complimentary bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and a selection of hors d’oeuvres, open sandwiches and fruit as well as a large bowl of flowers placed on the loveseat at the foot of a King-sized bed.

  “Wow Ralph. You certainly know how to give a girl a good time,” said Katie as she inspected the suite and opened the door revealing a lavish bathroom. “I’m sticky from the flight and all this humidity. If you don’t mind, I’ll bag first bath.”

  While Katie was luxuriating in bath foam up to her nose as the hot water trickled in from the tap and out of the overflow, Ralph read the Hotel brochure.

  “Hey Katie, did you know that the hotel was originally Raffles’ private residence? Evidently he thought a bungalow overlooking the beach and the South China Sea might go some way towards compensating for the hot humid weather and being so far from home when he was sent out here for the British East India Company.”

  “Next you’ll be telling me what he had for breakfast, Ralph. Can’t you just relax? I’m just getting dried so you can have the bathroom in a few minutes. Toss me my bathrobe.”

  ***

  As planned, Peter and Marcia met them in the Tiffin Room at noon.

  “Did you manage to take a tour of this place? They play an annual cricket match in the grounds, or so they tell me. We British were a bunch of rogues and scoundrels when you come down to it, pinching all the minerals and taking the best bits of land. But strangely enough the locals still revere the old British traditions.” said Peter as they were led to a table overlooking the immaculate and freshly watered lawns.

  “I expect in 100 years from now they’ll be playing baseball in the grounds of Hotel Kabul in Afghanistan to amuse the American tourists,” said Marcia. “I believe it’s already happened in Vietnam and Japan in spite of Nagasaki and Hiroshima.”

  “People forget these things pretty quickly. Just look at the tourists pouring into Berlin and Dresden, and I was shocked by the numbers of commercial companies flogging tours to Auschwitz when I visited Krakow,” said Ralph as they opened the giant gilt edged menus they had been given.

  “This is a bit more than curry. My local Indian take-away would die of shame if he saw this lot,” exclaimed Katie as the waiter hovered discretely by the tall French windows.

  For starters I fancy the Achari Prawn Salad,” said Marcia. “They make it sound a lot more exotic than prawns with coriander, ginger and pickle.”

  “That sounds good. I’ll join you,” said Katie as she closed her menu. “What about you men?”

  “Shall we go for the Zafrani Malai Tikka? It’s not too challenging and quite tasty,” said Peter.

  “A good choice, sir,” offered the waiter.

  Ralph thought of the old days when Peter was at the height of his philandering and drinking. He knew Marcia was well aware of all his gallivanting about, but since she had threatened to leave him, Peter had become a reformed character, although Ralph sensed that it was still bubbling beneath the calm exterior that his friend conveyed to those who didn’t know him well.

  Their empty plates were miraculously spirited away and replaced by the main course.

  “The curried fish Malabar is really nice with the jeera pulao,” Katie remarked appreciatively as she put another forkful of the aromatic basmati and fish to her lips.

  The waiter smiled as they politely declined the Hotel spe
cialty, Gulab Jamun, a dumpling fried in milk with saffron, sugar and syrup.

  After their hearty lunch, the friends could only manage tea in the cool lounge. They settled back in the white rattan chairs under the slowly revolving ceiling fans, and Ralph told Peter and Marcia about Stephen Chen and Li Mei. As they sipped their tea, he outlined his theories about Chen’s involvement with terrorist groups, Chinese corporations, and the failed SARS vaccine trials.

  “It sounds to me as though you have got yourself in a bit of a mess if I may say so, old boy,” said Peter. “Not that this is anything new,” he laughed, patting Ralph on the arm. “No offense, but why not leave the detective business to the authorities and get the University’s admin done so Marcia and I can show you the sites. It’s a great place to let your hair down and just take things as they come.”

  “I know what you mean, but I am concerned about Chen’s parents. According to Inspector Linham, the Chinese Embassy in London weren’t able to contact them and for all we know, they think their son is still alive. They should at least be told. And then there’s Chen’s fiancé, Li Mei. Whoever shot her is bound to be connected in some way to Chen’s murder. And Dr. Ryan Miller that I told you about. If he and Chen were involved in some shady activities where people died from their vaccine, then surely you would want him to be held to account.”

  “Frankly Ralph, it’s not our problem. If some bastard shot the girl, then the police will track them down. And as for Stephen Chen, his parents might be better off not knowing what happened to their son. They might be happier to think he’s off living the good life in England. And your Ryan Miller. He wasn’t the first and won’t be the last to test drugs in a way we may not see as right. But if he’s back on track trying to cure people of Alzheimer’s, surely his research has a happy ending.”

  “But what about the murderer?” Said Ralph, even though what his friend said made sense.

  “If your Inspector Linham and that Sergeant Wilson are as sharp as you say they are, they’ll get to the bottom of it,” said Peter.