Poets And Murder

by Robert Van Gulik

  Lo poured himself another cup, and sank into a morose silence.

  Judge Dee looked at him expectantly, waiting for Lo to explain how he was planning to proceed with the investigation. If this case had happened in Poo-yang, he would at once have ordered his three lieutenants, Ma Joong, Chiao Tai and Tao Gan, to make inquiries in the tea-merchant’s neighbourhood, about Meng himself, his family and his lodger. It was amazing how much information experienced officers could collect in vegetable, fish and butcher shops. Not to forget the cheap street-stalls where the chairbearers and coolies gather. As his colleague remained silent, Judge Dee said:

  ‘We can’t do anything about this case ourselves tonight, because of the dinner. Did you send out members of your staff to make further inquiries?’

  ‘No, Dee, I employ the staff of the tribunal for routine matters only. All confidential inquiries are organized by my old housemaster.’ Seeing Judge Dee’s astonished face, he went on quickly, ‘The old geezer was born and bred here, you see, knows the city like the palm of his hand. He has three distant relatives, slick fellows who work as clerks in a pawnshop, at a silversmith’s, and in a popular restaurant in the market. I pay them a generous salary out of my own pocket, for acting as my stool pigeons and secret inquiry agents. System works quite well. Enables me to keep a check on my counsellor and the rest of the tribunal personnel too.’

  The judge nodded slowly. He himself relied unreservedly on his old adviser Hoong and his three lieutenants. But every magistrate was free to work in his own way, and Lo’s system didn’t seem too bad. Especially since during his previous visit to Chin-hwa he had come to know Lo’s housemaster as a crafty old rascal. ‘Have you told your housemaster to …’ he began. Then there was a knock on the door. The headman came in and reported:

  ‘A Miss Yoo-lan asks for an audience, Excellency.’

  Lo’s face lit up in a broad smile. He thumped his fist on the desk and exclaimed, ‘Must mean she’s reconsidered! A lucky day after all, maybe! Show her in, my man! At once!’ Rubbing his hands, he told Judge Dee, ‘To all appearances my little surprise for you is coming off, elder brother!’

  The judge raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Yoo-lan? Who is that?’

  ‘My dear fellow! Do you mean to say that you, one of our greatest experts on crime, haven’t yet heard about the maid’s murder, in the White Heron Monastery?’

  Judge Dee sat up with a gasp.

  ‘Merciful heaven, Lo! You can’t mean the case of that awful Taoist nun who whipped her maidservant to death?’

  Lo nodded happily.

  ‘The very same woman, Dee! The great Yoo-lan. Courtesan, poetess, Taoist nun, famous …’

  The judge had grown red in the face.

  ‘A despicable murderess!’ he shouted angrily.

  The magistrate raised his podgy hand.

  ‘Steady, Dee, steady, please! In the first place, may I remind you that it’s the consensus of opinion in scholarly circles that she has been falsely accused? Her case was heard in the District, Prefectural and Provincial Courts, in that order, and none of them could reach a verdict. That’s why she is now being conveyed to the capital, where she’ll be judged by the Metropolitan Court. Second, she is without doubt the most accomplished woman writer of the Empire. Both the Academician and the Court Poet know her well, and they were delighted when I told them I had ordered her escort to let her stay two days in my residence.’ He paused, and plucked at his moustache. ‘However, when I went to see her this afternoon, in the inn behind the Sapphire Bower where she’s staying with her armed escort, she refused my invitation point-blank. Said she didn’t want to meet old friends until her innocence had been proved beyond all doubt. Imagine my mortification, Dee! I had hoped to give you the opportunity of discussing the most sensational murder case of the year with the accused herself. Offer you a stimulating puzzle that is baffling three judicial inquiries. Present it to you on a platter, so to speak! I know you aren’t exactly an ardent student of poetry, Dee, and I wanted you to have an interesting time here all the same!’

  Judge Dee smoothed his long beard, groping in his mind for the details of the murder case. Then he said with a smile:

  I do appreciate your kind thought, Lo. But I still hope she won’t come. For as regards puzzles, we have …’

  The door opened. The headman ushered inside a tall woman clad in a black gown and jacket. Ignoring Judge Dee, she strode up to the desk and told Lo in a deep, melodious voice:

  ‘I want to tell you that I have reconsidered, Magistrate. I accept your kind invitation.’

  ‘Excellent, my dear lady, excellent! Shao and Chang are both looking forward to meeting you again. Sexton Loo is here too, you know. And let me introduce to you another admirer of yours! This is my friend Dee, the magistrate of our neighbour-district, Poo-yang. I present the great Yoo-lan to you, Dee!’

  She gave the judge a cursory look from her vivacious, long-lashed eyes, and made a perfunctory bow. When the judge had acknowledged the greeting by inclining his head, she turned her attention to the small magistrate, who was setting out on a detailed description of the courtyard he had prepared for her, next door to his own women’s quarters, at the back of his residence.

  Judge Dee put her age at about thirty. Formerly she must have been remarkably beautiful. She still had a regular, expressive face, but there were heavy pouches under her eyes, a deep furrow between her long, curved eyebrows, and thin lines by the side of her full mouth, very red in her pallid face, devoid of rouge and powder. Her hair was done up in a high coiffure of three jet-black coils, held in place by two simple ivory needles. The severe black dress accentuated her broad hips, slender waist and rather too heavy bosom. When she bent over the desk to pour herself a cup of tea, he noticed her white, sensitive hands, unadorned by rings or bracelets.

  ‘A thousand thanks for all your trouble,’ she cut short her host’s harangue. A soft smile lighting up her face, she continued, ‘And ten thousand thanks for showing me that I still have friends! I was beginning to think I had none left, during the past few weeks. I gather there will be a dinner tonight?’

  ‘Certainly, but just a small affair, in my residence. Tomorrow night we shall all go to the Emerald Cliff, and celebrate the Mid-autumn Festival there together!’

  ‘That sounds most attractive, Magistrate. Especially after six weeks spent in various prisons. They treated me well, I must say, but still … Well, tell your headman to take me to your residence and introduce me to the matron of your women’s quarters. I must take a good rest, and change before dinner. Even a woman past her prime likes to look her best on such occasions.’

  ‘Of course, my dear!’ Lo exclaimed. ‘Take all the time you want! We’ll start dinner late, and go on till deep into the night, in the style of the ancients!’ As he clapped his hands for the headman, the poetess said:

  ‘Oh, yes, I brought Small Phoenix with me. She wanted to have a look at the hall where she’s supposed to dance tonight. You made a good choice there, Magistrate.’ And to the headman who came in, ‘Bring the young woman here!’

  A slender girl of about eighteen stepped inside and dropped a curtsey. She was dressed in a plain dark-blue gown, a red sash wound tightly round her wasp-like waist. Magistrate Lo surveyed her critically, a frown creasing his thin eyebrows.

  ‘Ah, yes. Ha hm,’ he said vaguely. ‘Well, my girl, I don’t think you’ll find anything wrong with my hall.’

  ‘Don’t try to be nasty, Magistrate!’ the poetess intervened curtly. ‘She’s very serious about her art, and wants to adapt her dances to the floor-space available. Tonight she’s going to dance to that enchanting tune “A Phoenix among Purple Clouds”. That’s her most popular number. The title goes well with her name too! Come on, don’t be shy, dear! Always remember that a handsome young girl needn’t be afraid of any gentleman, high official or not.’

  The dancer looked up. Judge Dee was struck by her curious still face. The long, pointed nose and the large, lacklustre e
yes with a pronounced upward slant gave it a mask-like quality. Her hair was drawn back tightly from her smooth high brow, and gathered in a simple coil at the nape of her long, thin neck. She had angular shoulders and thin, long arms. There was a strange, sexless aura about her. The judge could well imagine that his colleague was not greatly impressed, for he knew that Lo went for flamboyant women, with obvious and very feminine charms.

  ‘This person regrets her slender abilities,’ the dancer said in a voice so low as to be hardly audible. ‘It is too great an honour to be allowed to dance before such distinguished company.’

  The poetess patted her lightly on the shoulder.

  “That’ll do, dear. I’ll see you tonight at dinner, gentlemen!’

  Again she made a perfunctory bow and went out with her quick, long stride, followed by the shy dancer.

  Magistrate Lo raised both his hands and cried out:

  ‘That woman had absolutely everything! Great beauty, extraordinary talent, and a forceful personality. To think that a cruel fate ordained that I should meet her ten years too late!’ Sadly shaking his head, he pulled a drawer out and took from it a bulky dossier. He resumed briskly, ‘I collected copies of all relevant documents concerning the murder for you, Dee. Thought you’d like to know all the circumstances of the White Heron murder case. Added a brief note on her career too, for your orientation. Here, you had better have a look at these papers before dinner.’

  The judge was touched. His colleague had really gone to a great deal of trouble just to see that he, his guest, wouldn’t be bored. He said gratefully:

  ‘That’s most thoughtful of you, Lo! You are really a perfect host!’

  ‘Don’t mention it, elder brother! No trouble at all!’ He darted a quick look at the judge, and resumed, a little contritely, ‘Ahem, must confess that I have also what might be described as an ulterior motive, Dee. Fact is that I have been planning for some time to publish an annotated edition of Yoo-lan’s complete poetical oeuvre, you see. Drafted the preface already. A murder conviction would wreck the plan, of course. Hoped you’d help her to draw up a really convincing plea of innocence, elder brother. You being such a past master in the drafting of legal documents and so forth. See what I mean?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ Judge Dee replied stiffly. Giving his colleague a frosty look, he rose and tucked the dossier under his arm. ‘Well, I’d better set to work at once.’

  Chapter 7

  ENTERING THE MAIN GATE of the residence, Judge Dee halted in his steps and cast an astonished look at the disreputable figure standing at the door of his own quarters. It was a short, obese man in an old, patched monk’s habit, his round, shaven head bare. He wore large, worn-out straw sandals on his feet. Wondering how a beggar could have gained entrance to the residence, the judge stepped up to him and asked curtly:

  ‘What do you want here?’

  The other turned round. Fixing the judge with his large, protruding eyes, he replied gruffly:

  ‘Ha, Magistrate Dee! Went to look in on you for a moment or two, but there was no answer to my knocking.’ His voice was hoarse, but he spoke like an educated man, and with authority. Suddenly Judge Dee understood.

  ‘Glad to meet you, Sexton Loo. Magistrate Lo told me that …’

  ‘Decide later whether you’re glad to have met me or not, Dee!’ the sexton interrupted. He was staring past the judge with his unblinking eyes. Involuntarily the judge looked over his shoulder. The courtyard was deserted.

  ‘No, you can’t see them, Judge. Not yet. Don’t let it worry you. The dead are always with us. Everywhere.’

  Judge Dee gave him a long look. The ugly man vaguely disturbed him. Why should Lo …?

  ‘You’re wondering why Lo should’ve invited me, eh, Dee? The answer is that I am a poet. A writer of couplets, rather. My poems never contain more than two lines. You won’t have read them, Dee. You’re interested in official files!’ He pointed with his thick forefinger at the dossier the judge was carrying.

  ‘Let’s go inside, sir, and have a cup of tea,’ Judge Dee proposed, politely opening the door for him.

  ‘No, thank you. I must fetch something from my room, then go out on an errand downtown.’

  ‘Where are your quarters here in the compound, sir?’

  ‘I stay in the fox shrine, right corner of the main courtyard.’

  ‘Yes, Lo told me there was such a shrine here,’ the judge said with a faint smile.

  ‘Why shouldn’t Magistrate Lo maintain a fox shrine, pray?’ the sexton asked belligerently. ‘Foxes are an integral part of universal life, Dee. Their world is as important or unimportant as ours. And just as there exist special affinities between two human beings, so some human beings are linked to a special animal. Don’t forget that the signs of the zodiac that influence our destinies consist of animals, Judge!’ He studied Judge Dee’s face intently, rubbing his stubbly cheeks. Suddenly he asked, ‘You were born in the year of the Tiger, weren’t you?’ When the judge nodded, the sexton’s thick lips curved in a smirking grin that gave his ugly face a toad-like appearance. ‘A tiger and a fox! Couldn’t be better!’ Abruptly his heavy features slackened; deep lines showed beside his fleshy nose. ‘You’d better look sharp, Dee!’ he said in a dull voice. “There was one murder here last night, I hear, and things are shaping up for a second murder. That file under your arm is marked Yoo-lan, and she has a death sentence hanging over her head. Soon there’ll be more dead walking with you, Dee!’ He raised his large round head and again looked past the judge, a strange glint in his bulging eyes.

  Judge Dee shivered involuntarily. He wanted to speak, but the sexton resumed, in his former querulous, rasping voice:

  ‘Don’t expect any help from me, Judge. I consider human justice a paltry makeshift, and I shan’t lift a finger to catch a murderer! Murderers catch themselves. Run around in circles even narrower than those of others. Never escape. See you tonight, Dee!’

  He marched off, his straw sandals making a flapping sound on the court’s pavement.

  The judge looked after him, then quickly went inside, irritated at his own discomfiture.

  The servants had drawn the curtains of the canopied bedstead in the rear of his room. He noticed with satisfaction the large padded tea-basket on the centre table, beside the tall pewter candlestick. Standing at the dressing-table, he rubbed his face and neck with the scented towel the servants had put ready in the brass basin. This made him feel better. Sexton Loo was just an eccentric, and such people liked to make extravagant statements. He pushed the table close to the open sliding-doors, and sat down facing his rock garden. Then he opened the dossier.

  On top was Lo’s biographical note on the poetess, about twenty folio sheets. It was an ably written account, so carefully phrased that the judge suspected that Lo planned to append it to his edition of Yoo-lan’s poetical works. It stated all the relevant facts, sketching the background in veiled terms that could not give offence, but left no doubt about what was meant. After he had read the account carefully, the judge leaned back in his chair. Folding his arms, he went over in his mind Yoo-lan’s checkered career.

  The poetess was the only daughter of a small drug-shop clerk in the capital, a self-educated amateur of literature, who had taught her to read and write when she was only five years old. He was a bad financier, however. When she was fifteen, he had got so deeply in debt that he had to sell her to a famous brothel. During the four years she spent there, she assiduously cultivated old and young men of letters, and through these liaisons made rapid progress in all the elegant arts, showing a particular talent for poetry. At nineteen, when she was well on the way to becoming a fully-fledged, popular courtesan, she suddenly disappeared. The guild of brothel-keepers sent out their best men to find her, for she represented a considerable investment, but they failed to trace her. Two years later she was discovered by accident in a low-class hostel up-country, destitute and ill. The man who found her was the young poet Wen Tung-yang, famous for his cutting wit, his go
od looks, and his vast inherited wealth. He had met her in the capital, and was still in love with her. He paid off all her debts, and she became his inseparable companion. No elegant gathering in the capital was deemed complete without the presence of Wen and Yoo-lan. Wen published a collection of poems they had written for each other, and these were cited in literary milieus all over the country. The pair travelled extensively, visiting all the famous scenic spots of the Empire, welcomed everywhere by famous men of letters, and often staying on for months in a place that caught their fancy. Their association lasted four years. Then Wen suddenly left her, having fallen in love with an itinerant female acrobat.

  Yoo-lan left the capital for Szuchuan, where she used the generous parting present Wen had given her to purchase a beautiful country place. There she settled down with a bevy of maids and singing-girls, and her villa became the centre of intellectual and artistic life in that remote province. She granted her favours to carefully selected admirers only, all prominent men of letters and high officials who showered her with costly presents. Arrived at that point, Magistrate Lo hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of quoting the hackneyed line, ‘Each of her poems was valued at one thousand ounces of gold’. Lo also mentioned that Yoo-lan had a number of close girl friends, and some of her best poems were addressed to them. Read in connection with the fact that after a couple of years she had to leave Szuchuan abruptly because of complications caused by one of her students, the daughter of a local Prefect, the implication was obvious.