Waiting for Venus - A Novel

by Robert Cooper

  ‘Right,’ I say, feeling a confirmation to be appropriate. ‘But where does the German come in?’

  ‘Adolf must have known of Chin Jin-Hui’s profitable double-game during the war. From what Harry says, seems Jin-Hui wanted to be friends with both the Germans and the Japanese; he thought they would take over in Singapore in place of the British and install a Mandarin-speaking government throughout the region. Bernard told me he knew about Adolf from Li Fang, but only as a minor player, more of a diplomat really, concerned with Germany’s conquest of the world more than helping the Japanese chase Chin Peng’s tiny group through the jungle. Adolf was on Chin Peng’s blacklist – death list – but according to Bernard, such lists were almost routine at the time and Adolf was not involved in the diversion of resistance funds. If he had been, leaving the country would not have protected him from sharing the fate of Chin Jin-Hui. After the war, Adolf perhaps wanted to forget about his wartime role. He became a professor; but during the Emergency he returned to Malaya and Singapore to advise the British forces on the suppression of Chin Peng and the Malayan Communist Party. His earlier visits to Bernard after the war were all made to get information on Chin Peng. I doubt if Bernard let much slip. After the Emergency was officially over, Adolf’s visits had a very different motive. He tried to tempt Bernard to make a run with the treasure, offering to fix Li Fang and at the same time fake Bernard’s death and take him out of the country in a chartered plane to Indonesia – at that time in confrontation with the Federation and safe for criminals from Malaya. When bribes failed, he threatened to expose Bernard as keeper of the war loot. But both he and Bernard knew that such exposure could have led to the permanent loss of the treasure and the threats were empty.’

  ‘And do you think Bernard had something to do with the death of your husband’s father, Jin-Hui?’ I know I’m pushing things, but Agnes is in a talkative mood.

  ‘That’s the logical link with the treasure. Chin Jin-Hui had the stuff, he was murdered and Bernard had it afterwards. Li Fang might have been involved. I can’t imagine Bernard personally torturing Jin-Hui to get the treasure and then hanging him outside his family home. On the other hand, much as I like Li Fang, I can imagine him doing it. Bernard would never tell me. You must know.’

  ‘I’m as much in the dark as you as to who killed Chin Jin-Hui,’ I say. ‘But if Bernard risked everything to kill him and get the loot for himself, it’s strange he didn’t make off with it. If he couldn’t do so at the time because of Li Fang, it would not have been difficult during the years since. Bernard has many times been off by himself into the Perak jungle. For all we know, he moved the treasure bit by bit out of Singapore. He had strong links with the aborigines. Perhaps he gave it all to them to make up for what they suffered from both the Japanese and the British.’

  Agnes looks quizzical. ‘Are you saying you don’t know the location of the treasure?’

  ‘Right you are, Agnes. I don’t know.’ I felt quite pleased with my newfound ability to lie convincingly.

  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

  ‘Ah, it all depends on what you mean by truth.’

  ‘I hope for your sake that you do know where it is. Something tells me the German will waste no time in visiting you and he’ll get very nasty if you don’t tell him.’

  ‘Would you advise me to tell him, Agnes?’

  ‘I suppose I should advise you to tell all you know to Superintendent Wong. But an enormous treasure is very tempting, particularly if nobody is going to notice you take off with it – as long as you give Li Fang and Adolf the slip. On the other hand, it might be safer to settle for half of it and have the German take care of Li Fang and other problems.’

  ‘From hearing you, my impression of Von Führer Düsseldorf gets nastier by the minute. Is it possible that he had anything to do with the murder of Bernard?’

  Agnes does not pause in her reply. ‘Very possible. Although the version the police have worked out is wrong. I heard Wong throwing out the idea to Harry yesterday that the German put K up to drugging Bernard and searching his house for the treasure, and that Bernard accidentally died and was hanged to make it look like suicide. Adolf’s dinner invitation four days ago was to warn K he had been seen dragging Bernard’s body from your flat and to get out of town.’

  ‘Do you think K beyond a little drugging and searching if a lot of money is to be had?’

  ‘K didn’t drug Bernard. He phoned me from the Mandarin. He said the German had tried to get him to persuade you to reveal the location of the treasure and I was to warn you.’

  ‘And you took four days to give me the warning?’

  18

  Take a Letter, Adolf

  AFTER SEEING Agnes off into the Botanic Garden’s postage-stamp jungle for her quality time alone, I walk home across the cricket field through a light rain, trying to make sense of Agnes’s avalanche of revelations.

  Driving smoothly around the edge of the field is the old Citroën, wings waxed and gleaming, chevrons shining, gorgeous and menacing. Its roll through decades of history halts where I always cross Evans road before reaching the flat. A back door opens. Barns presses against my legs, growls rising. I wait for an SS officer with skull on hat to step out in full-length leather coat, take off his gloves and slap them on one palm. It doesn’t happen, but a familiar blond head pokes out into the misty drizzle. ‘Doctor Haddock. How are you?’ Von Führer Düsseldorf sings out in Wagnerian tones of comradeship and victory.

  ‘Well, all right. Nothing much has happened in the two hours since we met.’ I put a hand on Barns to calm her.

  ‘Good. So good. Do you like the car?’

  ‘Lovely. Was it left over from the war?’ I think I’m joking.

  ‘Yes. How clever of you to guess. Harry Chin managed to pull the strings for me and get it out of the auto museum and back on the road. The very same car I had here until 1945. “Traction Avant”; best thing the French ever made. Hop in. Ve vill take a spin.’ Quiet as a ghost, the Citroën creeps forward and the Führer beckons me into his time-machine. ‘I’d like to talk to you, Doctor Haddock – Tom. Perhaps we could eat together? I invite you to the Mandarin. Please to come in.’

  ‘Sorry, Adolf. I’m busy. Another time, okay?’

  Adolf looks like another time is not okay. He remains polite as he waves an envelope. ‘I have something here of interest. I vish to discuss matters of mutual benefit.’

  I see Ra’mad watching from his balcony, binoculars dangling from his neck. Poor old bugger, I think, the threat of a downpour will make the girls think twice before setting out on their run tonight. ‘I can’t make it tonight. Maybe some other time,’ I intend to reply, something reasonable like that. But Bernard – doing the behind-the-scenes thinking for me – comes through loud and clear with what is really in my mind. ‘No way. Eating with you makes people disappear.’ Hey, Bernard, take it easy. That might be construed as provocative.

  The square head flushes under its tan. Thin lips purse. Cold-blue eyes narrow as Adolf does a fair impression of a cobra preparing to strike. ‘Reinkommen!’ He hisses in my direction. ‘Im Auto!’

  The front door of the car smashes open against my thigh and I fall back into the puddle I’d just jumped over and Barnaby just skipped though. I look up into the hard eyes of the Japanese driver, who is out of the car and talking in perfect English. ‘Please get in the car. It would be a pity to have unpleasantness … An unfortunate fall. I do apologise for opening the door carelessly. Here, let me help you up.’

  An arm reaches toward me and Barnaby sinks her teeth into it. I struggle to my feet as the driver retreats into the museum piece and re-appears at the open window holding a pistol. I can’t believe it. Only the police and very desperate criminals carry guns in Singapore. And this gun is waving in my direction. It fires. Barns yelps and falls into the puddle. The puddle turns blood red.

  I grab at the car’s door handle. It’s locked. ‘The next bullet vill be for you. Learn manners. Pig.’ The
Führer spits out the window at me as the Citroën drives off.

  Barns is struggling; the water, alarmingly red. The heavens pick that moment to open. I cradle Barns’ head and kneel there in the rain, feeling a strange mix of anger, love and helplessness.

  ‘Why, Bernard, why? Why did you have to provoke them?’

  Two figures close in on me.

  ‘I had to show you. Now you know their true colours.’ I am asking myself questions and answering them.

  Two people are bending over me.

  * * *

  ‘Christ, mate. What’s happened?’ It’s David.

  ‘I saw it all.’ It’s Ra’mad aka Ali. ‘That disgusting German!’

  I stagger through the rain, Barns in my arms, David and Ra’mad fussing around me. ‘I’ll kill them, Barns. I’ll kill them both.’ I speak with no prompt from Bernard.

  Into the flat, I place Barns on my bed. Blood and mud on clean sheets Venus changed yesterday. My dog is dying and has to be saved. Ra’mad disappears upstairs to get the tools of a trade he’s not licensed to practice.

  ‘Shouldn’t we get a real vet?’ David asks. ‘Ra’mad’s Muslim. Can we trust him to treat a dog?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘But Ra’mad only poisons people doesn’t he, not dogs?’

  ‘Don’t forget his best friend, Snow the rat,’ David reminds me. ‘What if he decides to go for something of intermediate size?’

  Barnaby is snapping at her wound.

  ‘David, you’re not inspiring confidence in the patient. We have no car and God knows how long it would take to get to a real vet. And Barnaby has a bullet inside her. We don’t have a choice. It’s obvious Ra’mad hates the German. Let him patch her up and then we’ll get her to a real vet.’

  Ra’mad comes back with one of those black grips that all doctors carry in the Westerns. He examines the patient carefully. ‘Lucky she’s a bitch,’ he says. ‘Otherwise it would be much more serious.’

  ‘Why?’ David asks.

  ‘She’d have lost her dick, man.’ We laugh. Barns looks a little offended. ‘We need to calm her down. I’ll have to dig around a bit to get the bullet out then clean the wound. I’ll put a dressing on it and she mustn’t go ripping it off and licking the antiseptics before they have time to do their job. They do, you know. However much you tell them. Animals and children. Just can’t stop playing with their wounds.’

  Ra’mad seems to know what he’s doing with the swabs and bottles. I hold Barn’s head and David holds her hind legs. ‘Can’t see the bullet. Must have gone straight through the fat and out the other side hitting nothing vital on the way, so a clean and a rest should work wonders. I’ll give her a mild sedative. She’ll feel much better afterwards.’ Ra’mad reaches for a hypodermic. David and I exchange glances. I consult my inner voice but Bernard is having a celestial nap. ‘By the way, when I was upstairs, I took the chance to telephone a real vet. He’ll be along but not for an hour. I also called your friend Madhu to report the shooting. He’s on his way.’ Ra’mad shows a public spirit that surprises me. Barns slips into unconsciousness. ‘Not much more I can do. She should sleep until the vet gets here. Just call me if you need me.’

  I thank Ra’mad, vowing a total rethink of his profile if Barnaby recovers and his painful death if she doesn’t. David says he could murder a beer and I go into the kitchen to get him one. The fridge door is open just a crack; closing it properly requires lifting the door on the hinges – second nature to anybody who has dealt with it a few times. Nothing is missing inside. The hall is the real giveaway. A trail of wet footprints leads from the perpetually damp floor of the bathroom. The outline of a man’s shoes. In spite of the urgency of the situation, David, Ra’mad and I had automatically kicked off our shoes at the door. Somebody has been inside my home; somebody in shoes!

  * * *

  David follows me as I pull from the massive blackwood sideboard the single great drawer where for two years I have thrown any document that didn’t go into the rubbish. The only order is most recent on top. On the top had been Bernard’s letter; I’d put it there. It is missing. I quietly congratulate myself. ‘David, did you notice anyone in the flat before I arrived?’

  ‘That German. He was on his way out. Said he would go to meet you and drove off in that Citroën. Seemed like the nice, polite sort at the time. Never thought he was a dog killer. Quite fancied him, actually.’

  ‘He’s your new neighbour, David.’

  ‘I know. He told me. Invited me to drop in for a drink tonight. Of course, I said I would.’

  ‘According to Agnes, the man’s androgynously inclined.’

  ‘Not German?’

  ‘Come on, David. You’re the fucking English teacher. The bloke goes for the sexually ambiguous.’

  ‘Do you mind if we have a chat before Madhu gets here?’ David suddenly changes the subject away from the thing I think would most interest him. ‘The super hauled me over the coals this morning. I’m sure he thinks I killed Bernard. You know I would never have hurt Bernard, don’t you Tom?’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t. This isn’t one of your fantasies, is it David? Just because K’s disappeared following a fingering from Li Fang, there’s no reason for you to imagine yourself in a similar predicament. I’m not in the mood for fantasies.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Has K disappeared?’

  ‘Yes, but get on with what you want to tell me, David, before the flat fills up with police and vets.’

  David looks serious. ‘I was there, at Bernard’s, on the day he died. Li Fang saw me going in. I had no reason to hide.’

  ‘No reason at all,’ I interrupt with impatience, leading the way back to Barnaby’s bedside.

  ‘The super wanted to know what Bernard and I talked about and I told him.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘We talked about you, squire. Bernard was more than academically interested in homosexuality. He loved you.’

  David pauses. Barnaby is breathing calmly, I’m not.

  ‘We also talked about Bernard’s old days. Not that old but before you came on the scene and before Bernard’s heart problem. He used to get drunk. When he did, he was a different person. Aren’t we all? Bernard always had to get drunk before taking any of us girls on. But since he was drunk every night that didn’t limit him much. When he cut out the booze, he found the yearning still there but couldn’t do anything.’

  ‘Short version, David.’

  ‘He was ashamed. Not for what he’d done. But because he couldn’t do it anymore, I mean because he needed alcohol to free his mind. He was also deeply sad because he couldn’t declare his love for you.’

  ‘You told the super all this?’

  ‘Yes, matey. You know how persuasive that bloke is.’

  ‘And you told him I’m not ginger?’

  ‘Well, no, not exactly. I mean, you can never really tell for sure, can you?’

  ‘So, Bernard was a suppressed homosexual. If true, David, it’s yawningly interesting, but it doesn’t nail you for murder.’

  ‘Not in itself. But I felt sorry for the old sod, so I went back to see Bernard in the evening. As I told the super, I’m not sure of the time. It must have been around 9.30. Bernard’s back door was wide open. I went in. I thought he was asleep. He was in his armchair. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I crept out. Li Fang must have seen me.’

  ‘David, think carefully. Did you see anything on Bernard’s desk?’

  ‘I don’t have to think. The super asked me the same question. Bernard’s manuscript was there and a plate.’

  ‘So, the manuscript was still there when you left. And what about Barnaby?’

  ‘She looked as if she’d had a hard day. She was lying at Bernard’s feet. Lifted her head, saw me and closed her eyes.’

  ‘Look, David,’ I say in a calming tone. ‘It was stupid not giving Wong this information earlier. We now know Bernard’s manuscript was taken after you left. I can understand the super b
eing annoyed. But don’t worry. You’re not the last person to see Bernard alive. K was seen dragging Bernard into his house nearer ten. A woman was helping him.’

  ‘Who says so?’

  ‘Who do you think? The same person who saw you. Li Fang.’

  ‘The same person,’ David speaks as if struck by lightning, ‘who raised the alarm! Christ, matey, Li Fang must have done it. I saw Bernard asleep in his armchair before 9.30, he would have had to get up and gone out if K really was dragging him back in before 10.00. There’s only Li Fang’s word for that.’

  There’s no time to consider David’s deductions before Madhu and the vet come in the front and Ra’mad bounces in from the back. The vet is a quiet and serious man. He places a thumb on each of Barnaby’s eyebrows in turn, shines a torch into her eyes and goes hmm. He removes Ra’mad’s dressing, touches gently around the wound and goes hmm. He listens to Barnaby’s heart and goes hmm.

  ‘There is nothing I can do,’ the vet says.

  I gulp. David gulps.

  ‘Who put the dog to sleep?’ the vet asks.

  ‘Ra’mad!’ David and I sing out accusingly.

  ‘Doctor Ra’mad? The famous chemist?’

  Ra’mad nods modestly to confirm his name and fame.

  ‘Very pleased to meet you, Doctor Ra’mad. You will be aware that the drug will soon wear off. The dog is likely to worry the wound. I will leave a longer-acting sedative to keep her quiet. No need to give it for an hour yet. Perhaps, Doctor Ra’mad, you’d be so kind as to administer it. There is nothing I can do in addition to what you’ve done already. I expect the dog to be running around within twenty-four hours. But if there is anything, please call me, Doctor Ra’mad.’

  I thank the vet heartily. He says all my thanks should be directed to Doctor Ra’mad and refuses any fee – Singaporeans do that sometimes.