Waiting for Venus - A Novel

by Robert Cooper

  ‘Show me … if you don’t mind.’

  I’m caught between showing a stranger an official message and my curiosity about this young man who looks like he belongs in school but speaks like he graduated from Oxford. It’s coded anyway, I tell myself, so no harm, the boy won’t understand; I’ve got no idea myself what it says. I take the message from the fax machine and hand it across to the schoolboy in front of me.

  Li Fang looks at what must be mumbo-jumbo to him for a full minute then speaks. ‘District Officer Fox from Control. You will be visited today by an important member of the Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army, Mr Li Fang. It has been decided that your current position is not secure. You have to move again. Where you go is up to you. You can return to KL and then to Singapore or you can go with Li Fang to the place he directs you and wait until the Japanese are defeated. You should let us know your decision today by wireless.’

  I’m amazed; my face must show it. ‘You decoded that by sight? I can’t believe it.’

  ‘I’m fresh off the course and we spent a lot of time on codes. Where we are going, I doubt we’ll be using written messages like this – perhaps just as well. You can check it with the code book and use the wireless for confirmation. You have a telephone but I wouldn’t trust that too much.’

  ‘I don’t trust it. But as I said, the wireless doesn’t work.’

  ‘I’ll look at it while you decode the message. We also spent quite a bit of time on wireless transmission, although where we’re going there’s no electricity, so there’ll be no wireless.’

  I’m not technically minded, the wireless set is a mystery to me; no harm in allowing this clever young man to try and do something with it. Then I sit at my desk, take the code book from a drawer and start with pencil and paper.

  * * *

  It takes 10 minutes. Li Fang goes out, comes back and sits quietly waiting.

  There must have been wonder on my face as I look up at him. ‘It’s exactly as you said! I can’t believe you sight-read a coded message. Is that what’s taught at that special school?’

  ‘The course was only three weeks. Should have been six months but the Japanese wouldn’t wait.’

  ‘You learnt in three weeks to decode a message on sight? Then the code must be worthless.’

  ‘I can’t say I learnt a lot in three weeks. What’s written there, what you just showed me, it’s all gibberish to me.’

  ‘But you decoded it!’

  ‘Because I en-coded it myself, last night in KL at Control. Didn’t I tell you?’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  Li Fang smiles. ‘The wireless should be okay now. It was the antennae. Wind had blown it down.’

  Why didn’t I think of that? I turn the set back on, wait for it to warm up and twiddle knobs. ‘Fox to Haddock, come in.’

  The wireless speaks. ‘Haddock here. How are you, Bernard? I was trying to get you last night but no luck.’

  ‘The antennae was down. The chap you sent just fixed it. You did send him, didn’t you? And the fax. That must have been you.’

  ‘It was. Li Fang’s there already? Our best student. Learns very quickly. Almost as if he knew everything already. Beautiful English. He should be entering university in Singapore right now but won’t, of course, not until we’ve sent the Japs packing.’

  ‘Beautiful English, yes. But when he came to the door just now he spoke like a coolie in the market place.’

  ‘We told him to talk to any stranger like that if he’s approached in English. If he’s picked up by the Japs it won’t look good if he’s educated with fluent English. He can play the fool very well. Don’t be fooled, he’s no fool.’

  ‘Well, his act worked on me. I almost sent him packing.’

  ‘Lucky you didn’t. Now, what have you decided? You going to stay behind or retreating? Your sister will be happy if you come here, but it’s up to you – has to be.’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet. Big decision to make. I presume Li Fang is in one of the stay-behind groups, right?’

  ‘That’s right. He’s from Ulu Slim. Seems he knows the area inside out. Fluent in Malay and Semai. That’s really why we hooked him. Don’t be fooled by his babyface. He’s only seventeen but wise beyond his years and eager to kick out the invaders. He’s already something in the communist party; quite important, apparently. Don’t be put off by the word communist. It’s the communists who might save Malaya.’

  ‘I’m not put off by the word, George. I wouldn’t have survived Oxford if I were.’

  ‘Yes, I seem to remember we worried about you for a while; your sister still does.’

  ‘Tell your wife not to worry. As for going anywhere, I’m not at all sure what’s on offer. You know I’ve only been here a week. I was expecting to return to Tapah. Quite miss the place.’

  ‘I’m sure. But return might take a while. The point is, Bernard, you know that neck of the woods and the people there, you speak Malay damn good and you’re somebody we can trust. Won’t ask you to go into the woods behind enemy lines, but that’s what it might come to. Right now, the Japs are massing to take Trolak and Slim River. They’ve even got tanks. Won’t do them much good in the jungle but Trolak is not prepared for tanks. We’re trying to get some air cover but things are stretched. Don’t know if you’ve heard but there’s a huge battle in Kuantan and most planes left flying are over that way. If Kuantan falls, they’ll be coming at you from the east as well as the north. You might be cut off. That’s why it’s time you left. It’s all happened so fast.’

  ‘You can say that again. But shouldn’t be too long now before the Americans are with us in real terms. That should change things.’

  ‘We can hope so. Truth is, Bernard, everybody’s far more interested in what’s happening on England’s doorstep. Nobody thought Japan would really be able to attack Malaya. Seems Thailand let them do it from there. Now we’re desperately snatching at whatever we can get to delay them.’

  ‘Like me and this young man here! Must be desperate indeed.’

  ‘Right, better get off the air now. Lots to do. Call me back when you’ve made up your mind.’

  ‘It would help me if you could tell me where I’m supposed to go and what’s waiting for me if and when I get there.’

  ‘Can’t do that, would spoil the fun. Your visitor can put you in the picture. Bye for now. Over and out.’

  ‘I’ll call later and let you know, wireless or phone. Look after big sister. Out.’

  I turn to Li Fang, waiting patiently. ‘Thanks for the wireless repairs. Thing’s never worked as well as today. Now, maybe you’d better tell me a bit about this stay-behind option. Got to say it sounds more like left-behind than stay-behind.’

  ‘For me,’ says Li Fang, ‘It’s more like going home. I was born in Slim – actually Ulu Slim, then school in Ipoh. I went to Singapore expecting to enter university next term. That won’t be possible if the Japanese win, so I’m fighting the Japanese.’

  I hold out my hand. Li Fang takes it.

  * * *

  ‘Madhu’s here already.’ Venus is calling from the sofa.

  I close the exercise book on Bernard reluctantly and put it back, almost reverently, on top of the crumpled pile of books in the carrier bag. I’ve had a glimpse of Uncle Bernard a few years before I was born, when he would have been the age I am now. It’s strangely familiar but it’s a world that existed before I existed. Must be Uncle Bernard’s writing style; I can hear every word as if he spoke it, as if he’s inside me reading it to me with his Oxford vowels.

  9

  How Barnaby Got Her Name

  I LEAVE BERNARD inside his exercise books in the kitchen and go through. Madhu’s at the door. Barns grumbles a bit but stays on her armchair. Venus stands up, ever the polite hostess, and tells Madhu not to bother taking off his shoes. Her control of household norms is, I think, a mite premature given the progression of our romance, and Venus has contradicted one of my mildly-held principles: shoes off at the door. I
t’s not as if I have so many principles I can just toss one away.

  Madhu has the sense to slip off his shoes before padding in. In the East, where shoes come off at the door, I wonder if toeprints are ever taken along with fingerprints. For all I know, there might be a whole forensic department devoted to criminals’ feet. The fact that I can’t remember a single movie detective asking, ‘Can you describe the man’s feet, Sir?’ means little. Cinema screens preach that feet, in or out of the home, belong in shoes; footloose cultural bias.

  My ruminations are by no means irrelevant, I tell myself. If Bernard’s killer entered Bernard’s house at Bernard’s invitation as the super suggested, he would have done so in a cultural context and since Bernard had no greater love for shoes in the home than I, the killer might well have left behind footprints.

  ‘Something on your mind?’ Venus asks me sweetly.

  ‘Feet,’ I reply.

  ‘Funny place for them. And whose feet are on your mind? Mine?’

  ‘Right!’ I answer with enthusiasm as Madhu looks as if maybe he has come to the wrong party. ‘It could have been a woman!’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Fine, Venus. The killer. He could have been a woman. I mean she could have been a woman. You see what I mean?’

  ‘Ye-es,’ says Venus, meaning no.

  ‘A question of feet. Women have feet.’

  ‘My dear Tom, with such observations, I think you had better leave investigations to Madhu and Wong.’

  ‘I think I should tell you that I’m here officially, on duty,’ Madhu says. ‘I’d better make that clear.’ Sounds like feet are off the menu. ‘The super knows we are friends and that I’m quite involved with several people significant to the case and he thinks that can be both useful, since I have the lay of the land, and problematic, since I need to stay objective. He thinks on balance being conversant with the place and people in it over-rides the objectivity thing. The super himself is also familiar with the university – he did History here twenty years ago under Professor Fox and has stayed in touch with him ever since. Between you and me, Tom, that might be why he’s personally in charge of the case instead of Inspector Ong, my direct boss; the super admired Bernard. I’ll be running the investigation team from Guild House because the super asked me to do it.’

  ‘And your boss, Inspector Ong, is he also involved?’

  ‘No. The campus falls within Ong’s territory but Wong’s in charge of this one; I’ll report only to him. I don’t mind telling you, I’m quite happy with the secondment – Wong’s more fun than Ong and murder trumps a blitz on dirty car number plates any day – if it is murder, of course. But my feelings are irrelevant; I want it to be quite clear, Tom, I’m now a cop before a friend.’

  ‘Got it. But you’ll have a beer while we talk, Madhu?’

  ‘Just one glass then, can’t see that would hurt.’ Madhu will drink the beer of the prime suspect but remain a copper. Good cop, Madhu. Good beer, Tiger.

  ‘I’ll get us some refreshments,’ says Venus and heads off to the fridge. Madhu takes out his pen and pad.

  * * *

  ‘The super told me to inform you of the coroner’s report and the blood test on Barnaby – and note your reactions.’

  Drops of condensation fall from the cold beer glass onto Madhu’s notebook, blurring my reactions before they are noted. He reads from his notes in a serious stutter-free voice. ‘Death occurred between nine and ten, of heart failure.’ Madhu looks up at my face for some reaction to record. Perhaps he’s expecting a Victorian wringing of hands and a knitting of the brow. I’d oblige but I’ve never quite learnt how to do either. ‘Not hanging?’ I say.

  ‘Not as a cause of death, no. He was dead when hanged.’

  ‘Why hang a dead man?’ I ask. I don’t expect an answer and I don’t get one. To help Madhu out, I suggest he tell the super I’d already heard gossip that Bernard died before being strung up on the fan and therefore took the news calmly. Madhu flicks his head happily in sub-continental agreement and pours a second glass of beer. I sense he is about to tell us something we don’t know. Something perhaps not even Li Fang knows.

  ‘Stretching of the neck and marks left by the rope on the skin suggest no struggle at all, not even the involuntary movements of a suicide. They also indicate the body was hung up on the fan sometime between nine and ten-thirty p.m. – soon after death occurred.’ Madhu pauses to allow this revelation to sink in. ‘Contents of the digestive tract suggest the ingredients of a steak and kidney pie and a quantity of sedative that would knock out a man of the professor’s size but not normally kill him. However, the heart problem was possibly aggravated by the drug and death probably occurred while the professor was unconscious and before the hanging.’

  ‘It’s a relief to know Bernard did not suffer greatly,’ I say. Madhu writes glad to hear it. ‘That’s quite a surprise about the steak and kidney pie. As far as I know, Li Fang has no idea what a steak and kidney pie is. It’s certainly not on the Guild House menu and I rather doubt Bernard’s housekeeper could knock one up or that Bernard would ask her to do so.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ Madhu says apologetically, failing to write these wonderful clues in his notebook. ‘Maybe he had an old pie in the fridge and just snacked on it.’

  ‘Maybe an old poisoned pie?’ I suggest.

  ‘That we don’t know, lah. Maybe he took the drug independently of eating the pie – it’s a strong sedative, maybe he took it to get to sleep. We didn’t find any of it in his house but we are checking all recorded prescriptions now. It doesn’t look like a suicide attempt – that’s what the super said – because not enough of the drug was taken to kill a normal person. Anyway, the super says a man intent on killing himself by drugs does not sedate his dog and hang himself in a noose just to make sure, especially if he is already dead.’

  ‘Astute chap, your super. But what makes him think Barns was sedated?’

  ‘The super said something about all sorts of things happening to the professor but the dog did not bark. When I asked him what he meant, he said as a detective I should read Sherlock Holmes. Does that make any sense to you, Tom?’

  ‘Absolutely. Silver Blaze.’

  ‘Err?’

  ‘That’s the title of the Sherlock Holmes story. I’ve got it somewhere; I’ll dig it out for you. Barnaby would never have sat by and let anybody string Bernard up. Not without a hell of a fight. She only started howling towards midnight; maybe she woke up and found Bernard circling.’

  ‘Well, from the blood test results, the dog’s a real junky – the injected tranquilliser you gave her last night, masses of Valium and the same drug found inside the professor. If it were human, that dog would be in for obligatory detox.’

  My eyes are distracted towards the window for a moment as Agnes jogs by. I look at the clock. Exactly 5.30. I could set the time by Agnes’s breasts bouncing by – not that I look out for them, but they are difficult to ignore. Madhu finishes his beer and Venus opens a second large bottle. ‘Anything else of an official nature, Madhu?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, the super said to find out what I can about the dog. Maybe you can help me there?’

  ‘Not much, Madhu. Age unknown. Neutered bitch. Fat. Singapore breed – you know: part Chinese, part Malay, a touch of Tamil and a sprinkling of others. Short brown hairs that fall out in bed, curled-up tail, genitalia on public view. Whimpers when dreaming. Adopted by Bernard about three years ago, before I entered the scene. Known on campus as Professor Barnaby, well-liked by students and tolerated by the authorities. Faithful. Name of Barnaby given by Bernard.’

  Madhu scratches down what he can of this. ‘What was the last thing?’

  ‘Name Barnaby given by Bernard.’

  ‘Yah, that’s it, lah. The super wants to know why a bitch is called Barnaby. Was she named after someone?’

  Venus stops practising provocative curling and sits up in her armchair. ‘The story of how Barnaby got
her name. Last night you promised to tell me, Tom. Now you have to – police orders, isn’t that so, Madhu? It will make a nice human-interest piece – “The Professor’s Dog”. I’ll get Siggy to take some footage of Barns. She’s really quite photogenic – maybe a red filter to put some gloss on the coat and a little moisturiser on her nose. Please do tell us, Tom.’

  I can’t refuse Barns her fifteen minutes of fame – a dog robbed of her master’s protection might benefit from public exposure. Perhaps offers of a rich and comfortable home will pour in. Maybe a billionaire Irish Wolfhound will propose marriage. Anyway, no harm in the story, although any relevance to finding Bernard’s killer eludes me.

  Barns moves her head quizzically from side to side as her name is bandied about. She gives a long yawn as if to say, ‘I suppose nobody’s going to ask what I think?’ No, Barns, nobody will ask you. You just trust us to do what’s in your best interest. That’s what being a dog’s all about.

  ‘Okay. Fill your glasses and sit comfortably. How Barnaby got her name. As narrated by Professor Bernard Fox and stored in my memory.’ I sit back and let Bernard do the talking.

  * * *

  ‘Barnaby – at that time a dog with no name – appeared on campus a few weeks before taking up residence with me. I used to throw her lunch-time scraps from my table in Guild House and she caught them. She hung around Guild House and the student canteens. I noted from the first moment that she delighted in chasing those fancy cats of Chin. I think she saw something oddly demonic in cats with tails, as if only dogs should have them. Maybe she drew parallels with the image of a betailed devil. Barnaby’s aversion to cats with tails suggests she had never been out of Singapore in her life. Few Singaporean cats have real tails so perhaps Barns had never seen a cat with a tail until she set eyes on Chin’s imports.

  ‘I met Barnaby before the doctors warned me to cut out drinking before it cut me out. At that time, I was far along the alcoholic trail, collapsing into sleep each night and getting up late in the mornings. It was during one of those morning slumbers that I was awakened by a kiss. Several very wet kisses. I opened my eyelids to see two big brown eyes and a nose as long as Granny’s in Little Red Riding Hood. Behind the big brown eyes were two men in uniform. The men were blurred – my early morning world was a blurred place. From the uniforms, I supposed the men were police. It turned out they were dog-catchers called by Chin to rid the campus of a stray and dangerous animal – not me but the dog.