Done Rubbed Out

by Jeffery Craig

  Reightman took a sip from her own cup. “Was he an attorney as well?”

  “No. He was what might be called an entrepreneur. He acquired significant holdings in the area around Sarasota after arriving in this country. The area was starting to become quite popular as a winter resort. There was a lot of opportunity there at the time. Many well-known individuals settled there, including John and Charles Ringling. I believe my grandfather knew them, and many others of their ilk, quite well.”

  “That must have been an exciting and interesting time.”

  “Indeed, I believe it was. Fortunes were made and lost in those early days. But it was also a time of sorrow and danger from sickness and crime. My grandfather’s children all died during a severe influenza outbreak. Thankfully, a few years later my father was born. He was the only child of my grandparent’s to live to adulthood. He grew up in privileged environment, acquired a good education, spent some time wandering the world and even visited China in the late 1920s. He returned home, and went to medical school, eventually obtaining his medical degree. He became one of the early pioneers in combining traditional Chinese medicine with western practice. He made quite a name for himself in some circles, but my grandfather did not approve of his vocation.”

  Reightman was puzzled. “But why? Surely being a doctor was considered a prestigious profession.”

  “To many, it would have been. However, my grandfather was very traditional. He disapproved of my father working at all. There was no need for him to work. There was plenty of money.”

  Reightman started to respond, but was interrupted by Zhou’s raised hand. “My grandfather came from a very different world, Detective, the world of the last days of Imperial China. His family, and even he for a time, were courtiers or mandarins and had been for over two hundred years. The family was favored by the last dynasty. In fact, a not too distant ancestor was granted permission to own and display carvings and wall hangings of the five-toed Imperial dragon, although never allowed to possess any in the color yellow. Only the Emperor, Empress or their immediate family were allowed dragons of that color.”

  Reightman glanced down at the table in front of her, and at the dragons holding their five-toed paws in the air. Zhou noticed and nodded toward the table. “The table in front of you was brought here from China by my grandfather, along with a few other things which I have on display here and in my apartment. Mostly, he brought a large amount of gold, which proved to be more useful, although there are now many museums which would be delighted to have any of these objects. He wasn’t able to bring much with him, you see, and so he brought only the very best. He had to leave rather quickly.”

  “Oh?” Reightman was now listening to the story with interest and found it all rather fantastic.

  “Yes. There was something he did that incurred the old Dowager Empress’s anger. It was some incident involving British gunboats, cannons, and opium, I believe.” Zhou lifted her tea and drank.

  “What an incredible story. You must have had a wonderful childhood, growing up in such a household.”

  “I suppose many parts of it were wonderful, but there were parts which were quite the opposite. Would you care for more tea, Detective?” Zhou inquired, resting her hand on the pale green pot.

  Melba was surprised to find that she would. “Yes, please.”

  Madame Zhou filled Melba’s cup and then her own. “As I mentioned, those days were filled with both sorrow and with danger. There were many prejudices to overcome, especially for foreigners. I was born in 1930, Detective, and attitudes were more rigid then. Our family’s wealth insolated us somewhat from unpleasantness, but I still remember the rudeness my mother experienced from other woman and from certain shopkeepers. ‘Chinks,’ they called us – used in much the same way they referred to the black Americans by hateful, racial slurs. It didn’t help that my grandfather, and other members of the household, wore the traditional Chinese garments of his youth. My mother and father were more modern in their outlook and in spite of my grandfather’s disapproval, dressed in the height of fashion. However, we were obviously different from others in the area. There was also a huge amount of crime in those days.”

  Reightman was feeling uncomfortable, but wasn’t sure why. She tried to discreetly pull her blouse away from her skin. “Crime of what sort?” she finally asked.

  “Much the same sorts as we experience today. However, violent crime in those days was in some ways made more violent by the prohibition movement. I was very young in the last days of prohibition and don’t remember much. However, my grandfather ran afoul of a group of criminals which made money off of the illegal sale of alcohol, and I was part of the price he paid for his action. You see, he joined in efforts to reduce illegal bootlegging, and applied his considerable financial resources to frustrate criminal efforts to control more of the city, and city leaders. Quite simply, the bootlegging ring retaliated. I was three years old, give or take a few weeks, when they abducted me while I was out with my nurse. They held me for ransom and demanded as a condition of my release that my grandfather stop all efforts to inconvenience them.”

  Reightman suddenly felt herself flush with heat.

  Zhou Li raised her left hand. “Along with the first ransom demand, they sent my grandfather a part of my little finger.” Interrupting Reightman’s gasp, she quickly added, “That was a long time ago, Detective, far in the past, although I have never forgotten I was once a small, frightened little girl from an immigrant family. I promised myself I would never be unable to protect myself, or those I cared about, ever again. Whenever I feel my resolve falter, or become depressed and maudlin, I look at my disfigured hand and buck up. We all carry scars, whether they are seen or not. It is pain, and how we deal with it, which defines our character.” The old lady folded her hands on her lap again.

  “To conclude a rather long story, I was returned to my family, grew up, and went to school where I did very well. When I was about ten years old, my mother gave birth to my younger sister, Zhou Mei. Following the additional unpleasantness Asian Americans experienced following the events leading to the United States’ involvement in second World War, and the toxic environment fueled by Senator McCarthy, I eventually attended college up North, were prejudicial attitudes weren’t as strongly held. I did well there also, and eventually was accepted to Harvard Law. I graduated with honors and returned to the family home in Florida. My grandfather had long since passed away, and many of the traditional strictures had eased. I practiced my profession as a member of a small firm in Florida until I moved here with my father in the mid 1970’s. Sarasota was in the middle of a very difficult time during those years, and my father felt there was better opportunity for us here. He refused to move further north knowing he would find the winter temperatures hard to bear. I have lived here in this building ever since.”

  “Did you never marry?”

  “No. I never married. I did fancy myself in love once, later in life, but the gentleman was killed during the early days of the Vietnam War. I never found anyone else I could conceive of marrying. I became too set in my ways I suppose, and too accustomed to doing things my own way.” Madame Zhou leaned forward in her chair. “My sister’s brood is quite large though, and her children have given me much pleasure over the years. You might remember my very special phone case.” Zhou smiled wryly and folded her hands again. “That is enough about me, Detective. Please tell me about yourself.”

  Reightman shifted in her seat. She’d never liked to talk about herself or her background. “There’s really not much to tell.”

  “Nonsense!” Zhou Li exclaimed. “We all have stories which are important to tell. Sharing experiences, and the resulting perspectives, are what form the human connections. They in turn, establish and foster relationships.”

  “I guess I’ve never been comfortable talking about myself.” Since Zhou continued to look expectantly from across the carved table, Reightman forced herself to start. “I have a daughter and two wonderful gra
ndchildren. They live in the upstate.” Madame gave her an encouraging nod. “I grew up in a small town about an hour away, and went to the university here. I majored in criminal justice. I always knew I wanted to be a police Detective. I guess I grew up watching too many television shows where the very sophisticated and glamorous Detective always solved the crime within an hour and got his, or her, man. The real world is very different from what we imagine in our youth.”

  “Yes, Detective, it certainly is,” Zhou agreed. “And your husband?”

  “Is out of the picture, thank God! He discovered the joys of having his own very personnel secretary. I happened to interrupt an out-of-office consultation between them which was taking place on the couch in our den. It wasn’t an amicable separation, to say the least. It was actually quite bitter and hurtful and I still have bruised feelings over it all. The day I walked in on his little rendezvous with the office help, I just walked out the door. Looking back on it now, it was the best thing I ever did for myself.” Reightman felt her skin flush again, and perspiration beginning to form on her forehead. She tried to pull her arms out of her jacket. “Excuse me, Madame Zhou, but is it unusually warm in here?”

  “I don’t think it is particularly warm, Detective. However, it is hard to tell at my age. I find I am chilled more often than not.” Zhou watched her struggle with the jacket, and her forehead creased with concern. “Are you quite alright?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Reightman freed herself from the jacket and unbuttoned the top of her now moist blouse. She pulled the fabric from her skin and sighed in relief. “I’ll be fine now my jacket is off.”

  Zhou Li regarded her intently through the lenses of her glasses. “How old are you, Detective?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I asked how old you are. It is a simple enough question. I know it is considered impolite to ask one’s age, but in this case I have a suspicion I would like to verify. Please, Detective, answer my question.”

  Reightman mumbled a number under her breath. It was pretty close to the truth, give or take a couple of years.

  “Yes, it makes perfect sense.” At Reightman’s questioning look, she continued, “I believe you are experiencing what is euphemistically referred to as ‘that time of life’, Detective. I think I may have something that will help. Come through to the front with me and we can finish our chat while I prepare something for you.”

  “That’s really not necessary, Madame Zhou.”

  “Of course it is, Detective. You need to be at your very best to solve this murder, and it is not an inconvenience for me to help.” The small lady rose from her seat and walked briskly through the beaded curtain. Reightman gathered up her jacket and ever present purse and followed. Zhou Li pulled on a frayed cotton jacket, like those worn by doctors or pharmacists.

  ”What?” Zhou Li asked, noticing Reightman’s quizzical look. “I don’t want to get anything on my clothes. I have a luncheon appointment and would hate to have to change.” Madame Zhou Li moved quickly from shelf to shelf, occasionally removing a glass jar lid and placing a carefully measured amount of the contents into the small pottery bowl she carried in her hands. “I had a call from Chief Kelly this morning,” she said as she climbed up a small two stepped ladder to reach the jar that she needed. Reightman watched in trepidation lest the woman fall. “He indicated he had received permission for Mr. Bailey and me to participate in the investigation, if needed. I know his Aunt quite well, you know. Ernest Kelly was an interesting boy, very sharp, although a bit impatient. He could also be somewhat of a bully.” Once she gathered all of the ingredients she needed, Zhou Li moved behind the counter and pulled a mortar and pestle from beneath the counter. She expertly pounded and mixed the herbs, punctuating her efforts with a comment or two. “I assured him I would be delighted to help, and Mr. Bailey would be anxious to assist as well.” Fascinated by watching Zhou work the pestle in her small capable hands, Reightman was reluctant to interrupt. “I told him I would send you over to Toby as soon as we had talked, so you could work things out.” Eventually, Zhou was satisfied with her efforts and separated the mixture into tiny individual mounds, wrapping each into small cotton mesh bags. She wrote something on a small white card, and then wrapped it with the bags in crisp red paper, which she tied with twine. She pulled out an additional prewrapped bundle of green from beneath the counter. “Here, Detective – that should do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Why, help with the hot flashes, of course. It is my father’s original formulation. He made it for my mother himself and claimed it cooled her humors and sweetened her temper, although he never made any observation about her temper when she could hear. My father was a very wise man.”

  Reightman took the packet into her hands and looked at it dubiously.

  “Not to worry, Detective. I used this same mixture during my middle years. It helped with the sudden feeling of heat and the sweating, although I, of course, never really needed help with my temper. “ Zhou leaned back her head and laughed. It sounded remarkably like the bells on the door.

  Melba didn’t bother to even try to suppress the grin she felt forming on her face. “Thank you.”

  “Certainly, it is my pleasure.” Zhou nodded with a pleased nod. “Oh here, I almost forgot.” She handed Melba the green bundle. “This green bundle is the tea we shared earlier. Brew and drink one of the packets in the red bundle three times a day, morning, noon and before sleeping. It should begin to make a difference in a day or so. Brew and drink one of the packets in the green bundle whenever you want something comforting to drink. Don’t confuse the two.”

  “I won’t. How much so I owe you, Madame Zhou?”

  “I won’t take money from you, Detective. Consider the jasmine tea a gift to remind you of our time together and the things we discussed. Consider the red packets another sort of gift – one to make partial amends for my deception yesterday. As I said, I can get carried away.”

  “But I can’t accept these,” Melba protested.

  “You can, and you will. You don’t want to upset a poor, defenseless old woman, do you?” Zhou Li smiled.

  Melba considered her gleaming white teeth. They were probably sharper than they looked. “Thank you again then.”

  “When you run low, come back and I will mix you another batch. I will charge you for it next time. I am after all, a business woman. Now get on over there, and talk to Mr. Bailey. As I mentioned earlier, I have a luncheon appointment, and I fear I am running late. Punctuality is a courtesy, Detective.”

  As Reightman headed to the door, she turned and asked “Madame Zhou, who owns the building across the street? Where the spa is located?”

  “I do, Detective. As well as the apartment unit next door where Toby resides. He is not aware I am his landlord for either premise. He leases both through a management company. Please don’t mention it to him. “ She fixed Reightman with a gimlet eye.

  “I won’t, Madame. But, may I ask why?”

  “I have two reasons for my hesitation to let Mr. Bailey know he lives and works in my buildings: The first is simply he will likely feel beholden to me, since I have helped him with this unpleasant business, and will continue to do so. I want to avoid any feeling of unnecessary obligation, if possible. He has more than enough on his mind.”

  “And the second reason?” Reightman could have sworn that the lady blushed.

  “The second reason…well… the second reason is my apartment windows overlook Mr. Bailey’s terrace. On warm sunny days Mr. Bailey enjoys taking in the sun, without wearing even a single item of clothing. I …I occasionally – very occasionally mind you – peek out my window and…well…I enjoy the view.”

  “Madame Zhou!”

  “Well, I do! I may be ancient, but I am not yet dead. My father always taught me to have due appreciation for good art. And in this case – how shall I put it? The art is very impressive, even at rest, if you catch my meaning.” She winked and opened the door, causing the little bells
to chime. “Good day, Detective.”

  “Good day, Madame Zhou.” Cradling the packets of tea in her arms, Melba suppressed her laughter until she walked out the door. “Some fairy tales are right,” she decided. “Dragons are unpredictable and very, very interesting. Once in a while, they will even help out a mere mortal.” She looked across the street toward the Time Out Spa, where Toby Bailey waited. “Or two.”

  ♦♦♦

  Toby slowly paced the sidewalk outside the big windows in front of the spa, trying to work up the nerve to open the door and go inside. “Just do it!” he told himself. “The worst thing you could’ve ever imagined has already happened.” After a couple more nervous passes, he stopped in front of the door and did the one thing he didn’t want to do – he took out his keys, unlocked the door, opened it and walked inside. As the door shut, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He closed his eyes for a minute, and gathered his courage before squaring his shoulders and crossing through the front room. He didn’t even notice the lights were on, until his progress was halted by the appearance of a uniformed officer.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” the officer growled. “Place is on lockdown.”

  Toby recognized the condescending cop who’d been on premises the night of the murder. He wasn’t sure how to react to the statement, until he remembered that Zhou Li had already taken care of the problem. Still, he wasn’t prepared for an outright confrontation. He nervously cleared his throat. “I have permission to be here, Officer. My attorney cleared it with the Police Chief yesterday.”

  The cop eyed him for a minute, running his eyes from the top of Toby’s head down to his sneakers. After completing his once over, the officer eventually replied, “I have to call this in and verify your claim.” Toby seated himself on one of the reception area chairs while the cop stepped a few feet away, turning his back and speaking into his hand-held. After a hurried conversation the officer turned around and approached Toby. He came a bit too close, right on the edge of Toby’s personal space, fully expecting to claim the dominant position. To the cop’s surprise, Toby stood and faced him, with feet planted. The cop’s eyes widened slightly. He’d expected Toby to stay seated in the chair, weak and uncertain, and forced to look up at him. The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly at the change in expectations. “You’re cleared to be here.” He said it grudgingly. “You have to stay out of the back room and the break area. They’re still sealed and marked with tape, so stay out. Don’t make me tell you again. Clear?”