‘Young men of letters like a gay night, now and then,’ Ma Joong said soothingly.
‘Young man of letters, my foot! Yang is just a vagabond! Still likes to doll himself up, though. He has bought a new robe from me, worse luck! Hasn’t paid me one copper! I would’ve raised a row about that, but …‘He leaned over the counter and looked the street up and down. ‘I have to be careful, you see. Wouldn’t like him to come here with his hoodlums some day and throw garbage buckets over my fine stock of silk… .’
‘If Yang is such a good-for-nothing, why does Mr Lee keep him in his service?’
‘Because Mr Lee isn’t one jot better than him! Birds of a feather, that’s what those two are, sir! And why doesn’t Mr Lee marry, I ask you? It’s true he’s poor, but no matter how poor a man is, he can always find a girl who is poorer still, so that he can establish a regular household, as every decent man should. The two of them are all alone in that rambling shack, sir; they don’t even have a char-woman come in. Heaven only knows what goes on there of nights!’
The tailor gave Ma Joong an expectant look, but when the tall man didn’t ask for details, the tailor bent his head close and resumed in a low voice, ‘I am not a one to tell tales, mind you. Live and let live, I always say. Therefore I’ll say only this: some time ago my neighbour saw a woman slip inside there; at midnight it was, he said. And when I told that to our grocer, he remembered having seen Lee let a woman out, at dawn, if you please! Such goings-on give a neighbourhood a bad name, sir. And that affects my custom.’
Ma Joong remarked that it was a sad world. After he had learned that the student’s full name was Yang Mou-te, he said goodbye. He strolled back to the tribunal, cursing the heat.
Chapter 4
When Ma Joong entered Judge Dee’s private office, Sergeant Hoong was assisting the judge into his heavy official robe of green brocade with the gold-embroidered collar. While the judge was adjusting his winged black cap in front of the cap-mirror, Ma Joong reported on his conversation with the tailor.
‘I don’t know what to think about all this,’ Judge Dee said. ‘Hoong has gone over the file on missing persons but he also drew a blank. Tell Ma Joong what you found, Sergeant!’
Sergeant Hoong picked up a sheet of notepaper from the desk.
‘On the fourth day of the ninth month,’ he told Ma Joong, ‘two persons were reported missing. A Tartar horse-dealer here said his daughter had suddenly disappeared; but she turned up the following month, complete with a husband from over the border and a small baby. Second, the brother of a metal-worker and locksmith called Ming Ao reported that he went out on the sixth of the ninth month and never came back. To be quite sure, I went over all the entries belonging to the year of the Snake, but no person of the name Jade was mentioned.’
The booming sound of the large bronze gong at the entrance of the tribunal came towards them. It was beaten three times, indicating that the session of the tribunal was about to begin.
Sergeant Hoong drew the curtain that separated Judge Dee’s office from the court room aside. The violet curtain was embroidered in gold thread with a large image of the unicorn, the traditional symbol of perspicacity. The judge ascended the dais and sat down behind the high bench, covered with a piece of red cloth, the front side of which hung down to the floor. On the bench lay a small pile of official documents, beside it a large, rectangular package wrapped up in oil-paper. The judge bestowed a curious glance upon the package, then he folded his arms in his wide sleeves and inspected the court.
It was fairly cool in the spacious, high-ceilinged hall. There were only a dozen or so spectators. They loitered at the back. Evidently they had come to escape the heat outside rather than to assist at an exciting murder trial. Eight constables stood at attention in two rows of four in front of the dais, their headman somewhat apart, his heavy whip in his hand. Two pairs of iron handcuffs dangled from his broad leather belt. Behind him the judge saw four men of the labouring class, dressed in neat blue jackets and looking ill at ease. To the left of the dais two clerks were sitting at a low table, their writing-brushes held ready for recording the court proceedings.
After the sergeant and Ma Joong had stood themselves behind Judge Dee’s armchair, the judge took the gavel, an oblong piece of hardwood, and rapped it on the bench.
‘I declare the session of the tribunal of Lan-fang open!’ he announced. He called the roll, then ordered the headman to have the accused led before the bench.
On a sign from the headman two constables went to the door-opening on the left and dragged a beanpole of a man before the dais. He was dressed in a patched brown jacket and wide trousers. Judge Dee quickly took in his long, sun-tanned face adorned by a ragged moustache and a short chinbeard; the long, unkempt hair hung over his forehead in greasy locks. Then the constables pressed him down on his knees on the stone flags in front of the bench. The headman stood himself close by the kneeling man, swinging his whip to and fro.
Judge Dee consulted the paper on top of the pile before him. Looking up, he asked sternly, ‘Are you Ah-liu, aged thirty-two, of no fixed profession or domicile?’
‘Yes I am,’ the accused wailed. ‘But I want to say here and now that-‘
The headman let the butt-end of his whip descend on Ah-liu’s shoulders. ‘Only answer His Excellency’s questions!’ he barked at the prisoner.
‘State the Court’s case against the prisoner, headman!’
The headman stood at attention, cleared his throat importantly and began:
‘Last night this man ate the evening-rice in Chow’s tavern, just inside the east city gate, together with Seng-san, a notorious bully of that neighbourhood. They had four jugs of wine and quarrelled over the payment. The innkeeper Chow intervened, and a compromise was reached. Thereupon Ah-liu and Seng-san began to throw dice. After the latter had been losing heavily for some time, he suddenly jumped up and accused Ah-liu of cheating. A hand-to-hand fight resulted, Ah-liu trying to bash in Seng-san’s head with an empty wine-jug. The innkeeper enlisted the help of the other guests. Together they succeeded in persuading the two to leave the premises. Seng-san was heard to tell Ah-liu that he would settle his hash in the deserted temple. That means the old Buddhist Temple of the Purple Clouds, Your Honour, on the hill outside the east gate. It has been standing empty for more than ten years now, and all kinds of riff-raff pass the night there.’
‘Did the accused and Seng-san actually proceed there together?’ Judge Dee asked.
‘Indeed they did, Your Honour. The guards at the east gate stated that the two passed through the gate one hour before midnight, violently abusing each other all the time. The guards warned them that they were about to close the gate for the night, and Ah-liu shouted that he would never come back anyway.’
Ah-liu raised his head to say something. But as the headman raised his whip he quickly bent his head again to the floor.
‘This morning, just after dawn, the hunter Meng came to the tribunal and reported that when entering the main hall of the temple to take a rest there, he found a dead body lying in front of the altar. I at once set out there with two of my men. The head had been severed from the neck and was lying beside the body, in a pool of blood. I identified the victim as the bully Seng-san. The murder weapon was lying there too, namely a heavy double axe, of Tartar make. I instituted a search of the temple grounds and found the accused lying asleep under a tree, at the edge of the temple garden. His jacket was stained with blood. Since I feared that he might escape if I went to take out a warrant first, I arrested him then and there on the technical charge of vagrancy. When he told me that the last place he had visited in town was Chow’s tavern, I proceeded there at once and Chow told me about the quarrel. Mr Chow is present here in court to deliver testimony, together with two of his customers who witnessed the quarrel, and the hunter Meng.’
Judge Dee nodded. He turned round to Ma Joong and asked in a low voice, ‘Isn’t it rather unusual that a quarrel between ruffians is settled with an ax
e?’
‘Indeed, sir,’ Ma Joong replied. ‘One expects a knife thrust, or a blow on the head with a heavy club.’ ‘Let’s see the murder weapon!’ Ma Joong undid the oil-paper. They saw a double axe with a crooked handle about three feet long. The razor-sharp edges were covered with dried blood. The bronze butt end was wrought into the shape of a grinning devil’s head.
‘How did the murderer obtain this outlandish weapon, headman?’
‘He found it ready to hand, Your Honour. The temple hall is empty except for the old altar table against the back wall. But in a niche in the side wall stand two halberds and two axes. When the temple was still inhabited, those weapons were used during the ritual dances. They were left behind when the priests vacated the temple. No one has dared to steal them, because they are sacred objects that bring bad luck.’
‘Did Seng-san have any relatives here, headman?’ ‘No sir. He had a brother called Lao-woo, but that fellow moved to the neighbour district Tong-kang some time ago.’
Sergeant Hoong bent over to the judge and said, ‘I saw in the copies of official proceedings forwarded by Your Honour’s colleague there that he condemned Lao-woo to six months in jail recently, together with the woman he was living with. The charge was the stealing of a pig.’
‘I see.’ Then the judge said, ‘Ah-liu, report to this court exactly what happened last night!’
‘Nothing, noble lord, nothing at all. I swear it! Seng-san is my best friend, why should I want to …? ‘ ‘You had a violent quarrel with him and you tried to bash in his head,’ Judge Dee cut him short. ‘Do you deny that too?’
‘Of course not, sir! Seng-san and me, we are always quarrelling, it helps to pass the time. Later Seng-san said I was cheating at dice, and I was. I always do, and Seng-san is always trying to catch me at it. That’s part of the fun! Believe me, noble lord, I didn’t murder him. I swear it! I have never so much as harmed a hair on nobody’s head, I would never-‘
The judge rapped his gavel.
‘State what happened after you two had left the tavern!’
‘We walked together to the east gate, noble lord, cursing each other in a friendly manner. When we had passed the gate, we walked on arm in arm, singing a song. Seng-san helped me to get up the steps, for I was very tired. I’d been carrying wood the whole afternoon for that skinflint of a … Well, when we are up in the yard of the temple, Seng-san says, “I’ll walk on to the hall, I’ll sleep on the altar table! ” I feel so sleepy that I lay myself down under a tree then and there. I woke up only this morning so find that son of a . . ‘ He checked himself as the headman raised his whip again and concluded sullenly, ‘… to find the officer here was kicking my ribs and shouting that I was a murderer!’
‘Was there anybody else about in the deserted temple?’
‘Not a living soul, noble lord!’
‘Has the coroner examined the remains, headman? ‘
‘Yes, Your Honour. Here is his report.’
The headman took a folded sheet of paper from his sleeve and placed it on the bench, respectfully, with both hands. Judge Dee glanced through the document, Ma Joong and the sergeant reading it over his shoulder.
‘Funny that he went to the trouble of severing the head!’ muttered Ma Joong. ‘Cutting his throat would’ve done the job!’
Judge Dee looked round at him.
‘The coroner states,’ he said in a low voice, ‘that the body did not show any scars or other signs of violence. Since Seng-san was a professional bully, that also seems a little curious to me.’ He thought for a few moments, smoothing his long black beard. Then he went on to his two lieutenants: ‘Our coroner is a pharmacist by profession. A good man, but he has little experience of forensic medicine. I think we’d better have a look at the remains ourselves before we go on with the interrogation.’ He rapped his gavel and spoke:
‘Lead the accused back to jail, headman! There will be a recess until further notice.’
He rose and disappeared behind the unicorn screen, followed by Sergeant Hoong and Ma Joong.
Chapter 5
The three men walked through the chancery to the jail in the back of the compound, where a side hall served as mortuary.
There was a musty smell in the narrow hall. In the centre of the red-tiled floor stood a high trestle table. On it lay a long shape, covered by a reed-mat, and on the floor beside it was a large, round basket.
Judge Dee pointed at the basket. ‘Let’s first see the head,’ he told Ma Joong.
His lieutenant placed the basket on the table. When he had raised the lid he made a face.
‘Messy affair, sir!’ Having pulled his neckcloth up over his mouth and nose, he lifted the head from the basket by the long hair, clotted with blood. He laid it face up beside the basket.
The judge observed the grisly exhibit in silence, his hands behind his back. Seng-san had a bloated, sun-burnt face, the left cheek disfigured by an ugly old scar. The broken, bloodshot eyes were partly concealed by the matted locks of hair stuck to the low, wrinkled forehead. A ragged moustache hung over the sensual mouth, its thick lips distorted to a sneer that showed the brown, uneven teeth. The stump of the neck was a mass of torn skin and coagulated blood.
‘Not a very prepossessing face,’ Judge Dee remarked. ‘Pull that reed-mat away, Hoong!’
The naked, headless body was well-proportioned, the hips slender, the shoulders broad. The arms were long and showed heavy muscles.
‘Fairly tall, powerful chap,’ Ma Joong commented. ‘Hardly the type that meekly tenders his neck to have his head cut off.’ He bent over the body and studied the stump of the neck. ‘Aha, here we have a blue weal, and abrasions. Seng-san was strangled, sir. With a thin cord, and probably from behind.’ Judge Dee nodded.
‘You must be right, Ma Joong, that weal is clear proof. One would have expected the face to look different, but the subsequent severing of the head accounts for that. Now, when would this foul crime have been committed?’ The judge felt the arms and the legs, then bent the right elbow. ‘Judging by the condition of the corpse, death must have occurred about midnight. That is at least one fact that accords with our headman’s theory.’ He was about to let the arm of the dead man go when he suddenly checked himself. He opened the balled fist and examined the smooth palm, then he scrutinized the fingers. He let the arm drop and walked to the other end of the table to have a look at the feet.
Righting himself, he said to Sergeant Hoong, ‘That blood-spattered bundle in the corner there contains the deceased’s clothes, I suppose? Put it here on the table and open it!’
The judge selected from the pile of clothes a pair of patched trousers, and laid them over the legs of the dead body. ‘Just as I thought!’ he muttered.
Giving his two assistants a sombre look, he said: ‘I was very wrong, my friends, when this morning I said that this was just another crime of violence of the underworld. To begin with, it was a double murder.’
They stared at him in incomprehension.
‘A double murder?’ Sergeant Hoong exclaimed. ‘What does that mean, sir?’
‘It means that not one but two people were murdered. The heads were severed so that the bodies could be switched. Can’t you see that this isn’t Seng-san’s body? Compare the sun-burnt face with the smooth white skin of the hands and forearms of the body, and look at these well-kept hands, at the feet without callouses! Moreover, this is the body of a fairly tall man, though Seng-san’s trousers are too long for him. Our headman has still a lot to learn!’
‘I’ll call the stupid ass at once!’ Ma Joong muttered. ‘Then we’ll give him a sound …’
‘No, you’ll do nothing of the sort!’ Judge Dee said quickly. ‘The murderer must have had a very strong reason for making it appear that only Seng-san was murdered, and that this is Seng-san’s body. We shan’t undeceive him. For the time being, that is.’
‘Where’s Seng-san’s body, and the head of that unknown party?’ Ma Joong asked, perplexed.
‘T
hat’s what I want to know too,’ the judge replied curtly. ‘Heavens, a double murder, and we haven’t even the faintest inkling of the motive of this callous crime!’ He tugged at his moustache, staring down at Seng-san’s distorted face. Then he turned round and said curtly, ‘We’ll go to the jail next door and have a talk with Ah-liu.’
The small cell was so dark that they could hardly make out the huddled shape of the prisoner who was sitting on the other side of the iron bars. When he saw the three men stepping up to the door, he hastily scrambled away to the farthest comer with a loud clanking of chains.
‘Don’t beat me!’ he shouted frantically. ‘I swear that I …’
‘Shut up!’ the judge barked, then continued in a more friendly voice: ‘I just came to have a talk with you about your friend Seng-san. If it wasn’t you who murdered him up there in the deserted temple, who did? And how did you get the blood on your jacket?’
Ah-liu crawled to the door. Hugging his knees with his manacled hands, he began in a whining voice, ‘I wouldn’t know, noble lord. How could I? Seng-san had a few enemies, of course. Who hasn’t, with all the competition that’s going on nowadays? But none that would risk his life to kill him. No sir. As to the blood, only Heaven knows how it got on my clothes. It wasn’t there when I left the tavern, that I know!’ He shook his head and began again. ‘Seng-san was a tough fellow, he knew how to use his hands. A knife too, for that matter. Holy heaven, suppose it was …’ Suddenly he broke off.
‘Speak up, rascal! Suppose it was who?’
‘Well … I think it must have been the ghost, sir. The phantom of the temple, as we call her. A woman all dressed up in a long shroud, sir. She walks in the old garden there, when there’s a full moon. A horrible vampire, sir. Likes to gnaw off a man’s head. We never go there when-‘
The Phantom Of The Temple Page 3