‘This is beautiful,’ said Penny as they made their way down the stairs and across the courtyard to the tasting room.
Rebecca noticed Lisa couldn’t stop looking around, even glancing at other buildings she could see in the distance.
‘This place is bigger than some country towns!’ she exclaimed.
‘Well, I guess back in the late 1800s it was a town. In those days the journey was a three-day bullock ride from Adelaide on dirt roads through dense bush. They not only had to build the winery but provide accommodation for the family and the workers—houses, offices, butcher, blacksmith, glass-blowing furnace, bottling sheds, general store, the lot. Come on, I can see Sue and Keiko inside,’ said Rebecca as she pushed open one of the huge glass floor-to-ceiling doors leading to a modern interior of dark-grey cement walls, polished cement floors, and ash wooden fixtures.
Sue and Keiko were sipping on a glass of ruby red wine that looked inviting.
‘G’day, Sue, Keiko,’ said Rebecca as she kissed them both on the cheek. ‘Keiko, these are my friends Penny Tavanagh and Lisa Harrup.’ Rebecca gestured to Penny and Lisa, and they both shook hands with Keiko. Keiko gave a bow of her head.
‘Very pleased to meet you both,’ said Keiko.
‘What are you drinking? It looks pretty,’ said Rebecca, thinking as soon as she said it that she could have worded that better.
‘It’s a fruity moscato,’ said Sue as she picked up the bottle. ‘It says here that it is a “delightfully delicate and perfumed wine, showing lively red apple, musk, and vanilla cream characters.”’
‘It sounds perfect,’ said Lisa.
‘Can we have three more glasses, please?’ said Rebecca to the young waitress behind the bar.
They sipped their cold glasses of moscato and chatted.
‘So, have you been to Seppeltsfield before, Keiko?’ asked Rebecca.
‘No, I have not had the pleasure,’ said Keiko. ‘But Sue has walked me around many of the buildings and described the estate to me. It sounds beautiful,’ said Keiko.
After Rebecca sipped the last of her moscato, she said, ‘Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten breakfast, and I’m ready to indulge.’
Rebecca led them next door to the restaurant. She told the maître d’ she had booked a table in the courtyard.
‘Please come this way,’ said a waiter, taking the cue from the maître d’.
The courtyard was already nearly full as the waiter led them to a table next to the stone staircase. Citrus trees in terracotta pots lined the wall. Rebecca gratefully noticed the table had two large market umbrellas strategically placed to provide shade to the whole table.
‘This will be great, thank you,’ said Rebecca as they all took their seats. Sue helped Keiko to a seat between Lisa and Penny.
Rebecca sat next to Sue, leant over, and in a lowered voice said, ‘Did you see him?’
‘See who?’ asked Sue.
‘Sol Semler. He’s with a Asian looking guy, and he’s about three tables away, behind the date palm.’
Sue turned around.
‘You won’t be able to see him. He’s right behind the date palm. Probably a good thing. He didn’t notice us, and I’d like to keep it that way,’ said Rebecca.
‘What are you guys whispering about?’ said Lisa.
‘They were talking about seeing Sol Semler, Pixie Browning’s manager. He’s with a man that Rebecca says looks Asian,’ said Keiko.
‘Gee, you have good hearing, Keiko. I could barely hear Rebecca myself. She whispered so quietly,’ said Sue.
‘Yes, I do have exceptional hearing powers. Many blind people have acute hearing like me. It’s because of the wonders of neuroplasticity. Have you heard of this?’ asked Keiko.
‘Well, yes, I’ve heard something about it but not in relation to hearing,’ said Rebecca, not wanting to admit she actually didn’t know very much at all.
Keiko went on. ‘When one part of the brain is no longer required—in my case the part of the brain that deals with sight—it gets used for other things. My hearing has been improved to the point I can listen to audiobooks at three times the normal speed, which is unintelligible to those with regular hearing. I can also hear things at a low volume that others can’t.’
‘That’s amazing,’ said Lisa.
The waiter emerged with warmed olives in native spices and heated bread rolls with butter. He poured the wine and indicated he would be back shortly to take food orders.
‘Okay,’ said Rebecca. ‘We better take a look at these menus.’
There was silence for a few moments while they studied the menu. Rebecca suddenly realised Keiko couldn’t see the menu so she decided to read the options out loud. After she listed every item, Rebecca made her choice. ‘All right, I’m going with the tommy ruffs, followed by the ShuAm pork neck.’
‘Well, I’m up for the Goolwa pipis followed by the Clare Valley chicken,’ said Lisa.
‘I wish they would call them “cockles”. We don’t call them “pipis” in South Australia,’ said Rebecca.
They all proceeded to make their choices and were ready when the waiter returned to take their orders.
After the waiter left, Rebecca noticed Keiko wasn’t engaged in their conversation but appeared to be distracted.
‘Are you okay, Keiko?’ asked Rebecca gently.
‘Oh, sorry. I’m very sorry, Rebecca, but I have just overheard something disturbing,’ said Keiko.
‘I knew you would offend someone today, Lisa,’ scolded Penny.
‘Oh no. No. It wasn’t Lisa,’ said Keiko. ‘It was what I overheard from the conversation between Sol Semler and the Chinese man,’ said Keiko.
‘What?’ said Rebecca incredulously. ‘I know you said you had exceptional hearing, but they’re three tables away, and there’re a number of conversations going on around us. I can’t hear even a stray word of their conversation.’
‘But I can, Rebecca. I can hear every word. And they are talking in Mandarin. That’s why I believe the other man is Chinese. He speaks with a Guangdong Province accent,’ said Keiko.
‘Can you speak Mandarin as well?’ asked Rebecca.
‘Yes. My father is Japanese, but my mother is Chinese. I have also studied Cantonese.’
‘Well, what are they saying?’ asked Sue.
‘Sol Semler is saying that now Pixie is dead, they can go ahead with their deal. And indeed her clothing line may be even more popular now that she is dead,’ said Keiko.
‘What deal?’ said Rebecca.
‘The deal to move the manufacturing of Pixie’s clothing line from her home state of Illinois to Shenzhen in Guangdong Province in China,’ said Keiko.
‘Really?’ said Rebecca. ‘But I wouldn’t have thought Sol would have the power to do that. Surely the clothing business would be part of Pixie’s estate and would be taken over by an administrator.’
‘Depends what business deal Sol and Pixie had,’ said Penny. Penny had met her lawyer husband at university when she too was studying law as her parents expected. Penny didn’t pursue her passion for real estate until after she graduated. Rebecca could always rely on Penny for a legal opinion. Whether she wanted it or not.
‘They may have been joint owners or co-directors in the business, in which case the entire business would transfer to Sol upon Pixie’s death,’ added Penny. ‘Depends how the business contract was drawn up.’
‘Well, if Sol was a co-director in the business, why didn’t he move the manufacturing of the label to China before now?’ asked Rebecca.
‘Because, if he was a co-director, and not the sole director—pardon the pun—he would need Pixie’s sign-off to make such a radical change to the business plan. And by the sounds of it, she wasn’t up for moving the manufacturing from the United States to China.’
‘And Sol’s speaking Mandarin?’ asked Rebecca.
‘Yes,’ said Keiko. ‘With a New York accent.’
By the time Rebecca and
her party finished lunch, it was three o’clock. It would take at least an hour to get home from the Barossa, so Rebecca had no choice but to whip out her tablet, sit in the car, and finish the feature in order to meet Reg’s deadline.
‘You guys go off and have a look at the JamFactory. I have to meet this deadline,’ said Rebecca to the others.
At five to four, she called Reg. ‘There you go. Just sent the copy through.’
‘About time. And what morsels did you get from today apart from a full stomach?’
‘Well, quite a bit actually. I told you it would be worth it.’
‘Okay. Don’t keep me in suspense,’ said Reg.
Rebecca told Reg what Keiko had overheard because of her incredible hearing and the implication that there may well be a solid motive for Sol murdering Pixie.
‘Shit, that’s good, Rebecca. Freaky about Keiko’s hearing, but hey, good for us. I’ll get one of our lawyers to do some digging and track down the company records in the United States. We’ll see what they can find out about this clothing company. What’s it actually called?’ asked Reg.
‘Pixie Browning Golf,’ replied Rebecca. ‘There’s also a website, but you probably won’t find much info there, unless you want to buy a golf skort,’ said Rebecca drily.
‘A what?’
‘It’s a cross between a skirt and shorts. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Good, I won’t. Who’s this Chinese guy he was talking to? Do you have a name?’ asked Reg.
‘Keiko said Sol was calling him Bo for most of the conversation, but called him Mr Yong when he introduced him to the chef when he did his rounds. But I don’t know the name of Mr Yong’s business.’
‘Okay, Bo Yong. And you said he does business in Shenzhen in Guangdong Province, right?’ said Reg.
‘Yep, that’s right.’
‘Okay, I’ll get our China correspondent onto it. See what he can track down about this Bo Yong.’
‘Great,’ said Rebecca. ‘Now tomorrow night I’m off to celebrate Chinese New Year. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning in the office, hopefully with some leads about this triad. I’m thinking Sol and Pixie’s falling-out was probably around Sol wanting to move the manufacturing of Pixie’s clothing to China. There’s a strong possibility there is a Chinese link to the murder,’ said Rebecca.
‘Been thinking the same thing myself. See you Monday,’ said Reg before he hung up.
Goodbye to you, too, man of few words and no manners, Rebecca said to herself.
Rebecca then dialled Gary’s number.
‘Hi, Rebecca. I wondered when I would hear from you.’
‘Well, you could always ring me, Gary,’ said Rebecca, sounding testier than she wanted it to.
‘I thought you might have been busy with that guy I saw you with at Bar Torino last night,’ said Gary coolly.
‘Who? Walter Mildren? I hardly know him. He’s an executive from ESPN, out here for the golf. He’s picked up Sue Barker to do some anchoring. He came with Sue,’ said Rebecca, secretly pleased Gary appeared to be jealous.
‘It looked like he was more with you than Sue.’
‘Oh, come on. You’re not jealous? It’s not as if you and I are an item. We’ve hardly seen each other in the past few months.’ There was a moments silence before Gary replied.
‘Well coincidentally, I was going to call you today. I wondered if you would like to go on a date with me on Tuesday night. There’s a Sri Lanka versus Australia T20 cricket game at Adelaide Oval. I’ve booked a table at the Hill of Grace restaurant and seats in the eastern stand.’
‘Really? A date?’ said Rebecca, sounding both surprised and delighted.
‘Yes, really. A date.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to mix business with pleasure during a murder case,’ replied Rebecca.
‘I know. That was my position during the Popeye Murder, but you keep getting involved in murders and writing about them! I’ve spoken with my boss and had a bit of a rethink. There’s always going to be conflict of interest in life; it’s how you handle it. So, this is how it is going to work, Rebecca: we separate the personal from the professional. I can’t divulge police information to you to be used in the press. Apart from being unethical, it could jeopardise us catching the killer or getting a conviction. However—and here’s the good news—you are able to tell me everything you know.’
‘Oh, that would be right!’ exclaimed Rebecca. ‘I do the hard yards and you get the glory. I get nothing in return.’
‘You’re not doing the work for me, Rebecca. You know that. Sometimes you may uncover something we haven’t yet uncovered but that’s rare. And the glory, as you put it, is to catch a murderer and make the community safer. And we get to see each other on a personal basis. Where’s the downside?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ Rebecca knew Gary was right, but she was miffed. She decided not to tell him about her latest leads. Not yet anyway. ‘Okay, yes to the cricket and to the Hill of Grace. What time are you going to pick me up?’ asked Rebecca ungraciously.
‘How about six o’clock? We can watch some of the cricket in the stands before dinner.’
‘Okay. Done.’
Chinese New Year
Rebecca dressed in a Chinese-inspired green silk dress matched with pink sandals and Uber-ed to Gouger Street. At eight o’clock it was still daylight, but the light was fading fast. The street was closed to car traffic, and hundreds of red paper lanterns were strung up between the Stobie poles, zigzagging their way across the road. A stage was set up next to the pagoda and dancers in colourful costumes were performing a traditional dance to a high-pitched tune made by a trio playing Chinese instruments. A conga line of dancers inside an enormous lion’s head costume slowly snaked its way through the throngs of people and between the food stalls.
Rebecca eventually made it to Concubine, where the restaurant was full, but her destination was upstairs. Chin Wang was holding a private party in the Shanghai Room to herald in the year of the rooster. Standing at the entrance, Rebecca looked into a sea of largely Asian faces, dotted with a few Caucasians.
Rebecca walked up and bowed to Chin and two others with him. She added a kiss on Chin’s cheek.
‘Happy Chinese New Year,’ she said.
‘Thank you, Rebecca. Happy New Year to you also,’ said Chin before adding, ‘Let me introduce you. This is Dr Ken Wu.’
Dr Wu extended a hand to Rebecca; she gave him a slight bow.
‘Delighted to meet you, Dr Wu.’
‘And this is my father, Bai Wang,’ said Chin.
Rebecca shook Bai’s hand warmly and gave another slight bow. ‘How do you do?’ said Rebecca formally. ‘You must be very proud of what your son has achieved.’
‘Yes, I am very proud of Chin as I am of all of my children,’ said Bai.
For the next few minutes the group exchanged polite conversation. When it appeared the discussion on the year of the rooster was exhausted, Rebecca made her move.
‘Dr Wu, I wonder if I could be so bold as to have a moment of your time in regards to a sensitive matter?’ Assertively taking Dr Wu’s arm, she glanced at the others and said, ‘Please excuse us for a moment.’ Rebecca didn’t give Dr Wu a chance to say no and led him across the room to a free corner next to a bookcase.
‘Please excuse me, Dr Wu, for spiriting you away, but I take it that Chin Wang explained to you that I want to talk to you about the White Lotus Society?’
‘Yes, Ms Keith, he did,’ said Dr Wu, addressing Rebecca in the same formal manner in which she was addressing him.
Rebecca pulled out her phone and showed Ken Wu the photos of the Chinese characters on the red body bag. Ken Wu looked at them carefully.
‘Yes, these are the symbols for the White Lotus Society.’
‘So what does it mean?’
‘Nothing. It means nothing.’
‘How can it mean nothing?’ asked Rebecca, looking puzzled.
‘There are no members of the White L
otus Society operating in Australia, let alone in Adelaide.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Ken Wu looked her in the eye. ‘Because I am sure.’
‘So it is a red herring?’
‘Yes.’
Rebecca was frustrated. She wanted more information, but she wasn’t getting far. Clutching at straws she asked, ‘Well, what about Bo Yong?’
Ken Wu gave a slight frown and said quietly, ‘Bo Yong?’
‘Yes!’ said Rebecca, excited that Ken Wu appeared to be familiar with the name.
‘I’ve never heard of him.’
Rebecca searched his face. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘That is your prerogative. And if you don’t mind, I see an old friend.’ He gestured to the other side of the room. ‘It has been a pleasure, Ms Keith.’ He bowed his head and moved away.
Madame Hanoi
‘So you have nothing?’ Reg spat out the words to Rebecca as they sat opposite each other on ottomans in Reg’s barricaded cubbyhole.
‘Dr Wu was guarded. Said the White Lotus Society didn’t operate here. He said the characters meant nothing, other than saying White Lotus Society.’
‘Do you believe that he knew nothing?’
‘No, but he was hard to read.’
‘He must have learned that in the triad,’ answered Reg dryly. ‘Did he look scared?’
‘No.’
‘Probably learned to hide his fear too,’ said Reg. ‘So where to from here?’
‘When I mentioned Bo Yong, the Chinese businessman who has links with Sol Semler, I could have sworn Dr Wu knew him.’
‘Why?’
‘It was the way he repeated his name. Very deliberately and quietly, as if he didn’t want others to overhear him,’ said Rebecca. She paused before adding, ‘Has the China correspondent found out anything about Bo Yong yet?’
‘No. Not yet. I’ll chase that up today.’
‘Well, I guess I should just do some old-fashioned background checking on all the key people who were interviewed by the police, whether or not they are suspects at this stage. I think I’ll start with Big Nose.’
A Royal Murder Page 8