The Borrowed

by Chan Ho-Kei

  ‘Leaving aside the anomalies,’ Lok continued, ‘the scene suggested a burglar smashing the window to gain entry to the study, and upon being surprised by the deceased, knocking him unconscious with the vase, binding him and continuing to rummage. He’d have found the safe but been unable to open it, and so threatened the victim with the speargun, demanding the combination, and when he refused, shooting him dead. The criminal snatched the two hundred thousand in cash and fled...’

  Dub-dub. The negative tone again, as the pointer moved to NO. The witnesses looked at each other, shocked.

  ‘Sir, are you saying the murderer wasn’t an outsider?’

  Ping. The pointer slid breezily onto YES.

  Inspector Lok looked startled. ‘You’re right. Further investigation made it seem less likely the criminal was an intruder. We found no evidence of climbing outside the window, nor footprints in the flowerbed below. I wondered if he might have entered some other way, for example rappelling from above, but there were no marks on the roof either. There’s still the possibility of a helicopter...’

  Dub-dub. The old detective seemed to be mocking his disciple for missing an obvious truth.

  ‘Sir, do you already know from what I’ve said that this was an inside job?’

  Ping. Another swift YES.

  ‘Was it how the window was broken? Evidence that the victim was killed with a speargun? Signs that the room had been ransacked?’

  The pointer remained still in the centre of the screen.

  ‘Was it the desk? The bookcase? The vase? The floorboards?’

  Ping.

  The inspector repeated, ‘Floorboards,’ and the pointer responded.

  ‘Floorboards? But there was nothing on them – neither fingerprints nor footprints. They were completely clear,’ Ah Sing interrupted.

  Inspector Lok turned suddenly to look at Ah Sing, then back at his mentor, enlightenment spreading across his face. ‘That’s right!’ He smacked his forehead.

  ‘What?’ Ah Sing looked uncertain, as did the Yue household.

  ‘Ah Sing, when have we seen such a spotless crime scene before? No fingerprints, fine, that’s easy enough, most burglars know to wear gloves. But footprints don’t prove much one way or the other, and home intruders seldom avoid them. Much simpler to buy a new pair of shoes and burn them after the burglary.’

  ‘But it’s possible a murderer would take special care to wipe the floorboards to cover his tracks,’ argued Ah Sing.

  ‘If that were the case, how would you explain the documents and other objects scattered across the floor? If we assume the murderer walked across the flowerbed, broke into an empty room, and killed Mr Yuen when he came in unexpectedly, wouldn’t he have cleared everything off the floor before wiping his footprints away? Why get rid of the evidence of murder and leave behind the appearance of a ransacked room, instead of just running away in the first instance? That makes no sense.’

  Listening to their dialogue, Wing-yee realized why Inspector Lok had wanted the superintendent’s help. Merely hearing a description of the scene, this immobile man had reached a conclusion it had taken the police vast amounts of manpower to arrive at. Wing-yee shivered, afraid this old detective, unable to move a finger, would nonetheless see right through him.

  He was terrified he wouldn’t escape this penetrating insight, because he was a killer.

  4

  ‘IF IT WASN’T an outsider...’ Choi Ting said suddenly, dragging Wing-yee back from his reverie.

  ‘Then the murderer must be one of the five other people in the house at the time,’ said Inspector Lok coldly.

  In an instant, the five witnesses – now suspects – understood what lay behind Lok’s investigations over the last three days. He’d met each of them in turn, asking about the relationships within the family, the deceased’s past, and so forth. And that strange question, ‘If the murderer weren’t an intruder, who would you think it was?’

  ‘You bastar— So all of this was a trap?’ spat Wing-lim. This time, Old Tong didn’t try to silence him.

  ‘Mr Yue Wing-lim, let’s be clear.’ Inspector Lok turned his hawklike gaze to the younger man, speaking very distinctly. ‘My job is to find the truth and uphold justice for the deceased. I don’t need any of you to like me. The police stand on the side of the victim, speaking for those who have no voice.’

  Ah Sing noticed the emphasis on the words ‘any of you’.

  The temperature of the room seemed to plunge several degrees. Reverting to his previous tone, Inspector Lok went on, ‘Now, if you have no objection, I’ll go through the information we’ve gathered this week concerning various individuals.’

  Ping. No one else spoke, but the old detective was letting them know he approved.

  ‘First, the deceased.’ Inspector Lok flipped to the relevant page. ‘Yuen Man-bun, sixty-seven years old, male, director of Fung Hoi Consortium. According to various statements, the deceased was known to be a ruthless businessman, buying up small companies, using, shall we say, extreme tactics against his opponents, so much so that he was nicknamed the Fung Hoi Shark. This was a completely different ethos from that of the founder of the consortium, Yue Fung. Yet through the Asian financial crisis of 1997 and the global economic slump of 2008, Fung Hoi’s profits continued to rise unabated, which would seem to show Mr Yuen’s strategy may well have been the right one. Leaving this aside, most of his employees thought he was a friendly boss, even if his demands were somewhat stricter than average.’

  Ah Sing always felt such praise from employees must be flattery. Even with the boss dead, the successor would be his son, and if any criticisms were to make their way back to the future boss’s ears, there’d be consequences. Describing a ‘shark’ as ‘friendly’, well, that was the best joke he’d ever heard.

  ‘Yuen Man-bun was originally Yue Fung’s subordinate. Fung Hoi started out as a small-scale plastic goods factory, but in the late sixties it branched out into property investment, and Yue Fung took the opportunity to float the company’s stock on as many of Hong Kong’s exchanges as possible. At the time, Yue Fung preferred to hire young men, and twenty-three-year-old Yuen Man-bun’s sharp mind left a strong impression on him. This clerk quickly rose to be Yue Fung’s personal assistant. Another person received a promotion at that time: the twenty-year-old Wong Kwan-tong, now aged sixty-four and one of our suspects.’

  Hearing the inspector mention his name, Old Tong unconsciously straightened.

  ‘According to some retired workers who knew the family, there was a persistent rumour that Yue Fung hadn’t just hired a personal assistant, but also an “imperial son-in-law”. He was sixty, and had no descendants but a teenage daughter. Being an only child himself, he feared the Yue family would die out. His solution was to find a young, capable man to marry into the family, and run the consortium when the time came. Some people pointed out that when they were younger, Yue Chin-yau got on far better with Wong Kwan-tong, who was more her own age, but in the end it was Yuen Man-bun that she married.’

  ‘Inspector Lok, you can’t possibly be claiming this as my motive for murder?’ Old Tong broke in. ‘It wasn’t Old-boss who chose her husband, it was the lady herself, and while I was close to Yue Chin-yau, we were never in love. Anyway, this was forty years ago. Who’d kill a love rival over ancient history? I’ve been working under him all this time.’

  ‘I’m just narrating, there’s no further meaning. My mentor will make his own analysis.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Nanny Wu spoke for the first time. ‘Tong can’t be the killer. He was good friends with Boss-man and young Missy. Those two got hitched in April 1971, just as the Kam Ngan Stock Exchange was getting started. They listed the company there, and in order for Boss-man and Missy to go off on their honeymoon, Tong took over that whole job without a word of complaint, while letting the old man believe his son had found time to do it in the midst of all his wedding preparations. Those two were close as brothers. Tong wouldn’t do anything so cruel.’
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  By ‘Boss-man’, of course, Nanny Wu meant Yuen Man-bun. And for all that Yue Chin-yau had afterwards become her ‘Boss-lady’, the old woman had never called her anything but ‘Missy’.

  The inspector glanced at Nanny Wu, then went back to his notebook. ‘That’s right; everything Ms Wu Kam-mui just said is accurate. Let’s see what we know about Ms Wu.’

  Not having expected the arrow to point in her direction, Nanny Wu grew panicky.

  ‘Ms Wu Kam-mui, sixty-five years old, crossed illegally from the mainland in 1965. She met Yue Fung and his wife and started working for them. At the time, indentured servants were illegal in Hong Kong, but many households nonetheless had an amah or mui tsai. At the age of just seventeen, Ms Wu became Yue Chin-yau’s nanny. In 1965 – that means Miss Yue would have been just twelve... no, thirteen...’

  ‘Eleven,’ Nanny Wu said cautiously, a handkerchief twisting in her hands.

  ‘Right, eleven.’ The inspector nodded gently. ‘And from that point, Ms Wu became Miss Yue’s permanent maid, accompanying the household for more than forty years, up to the present day. According to the other witnesses, Ms Wu’s relationship with the deceased couple was always very good.’

  From what the others had said, Nanny Wu might have been an employee, but as far as Chin-yau was concerned, she’d been more like an older sister, taking care of her, sharing the secrets of her heart. When Yue Chin-yau had died four months ago, Nanny Wu had wept every bit as much as the rest of the family, and had more sleepless nights afterwards than anyone else.

  ‘Yuen Man-bun and Yue Chin-yau were married in 1971 and had their eldest son, Wing-lai, that year. He died in a car accident, but we’ve already mentioned that—’

  Dub-dub.

  Everyone jumped at the computer’s NO sound.

  ‘No? Sir, do you want me to say something further about Yue Wing-lai?’

  Ping. YES this time.

  Inspector Lok scratched his head, a little helplessly.

  ‘In 1990, the car Yue Wing-lai was driving veered off Clear Water Bay Road and plunged downhill, leaving him in a coma. He died in hospital two days later without regaining consciousness... That’s all I have here. Ah Sing, you were in charge of investigating the Yue family connections; do you have anything to add?’

  Looking unprepared, Ah Sing scrambled to pull out a brown notebook from his pocket and anxiously flipped to the right page. ‘Ah, Yue, Yue, Yue Wing-lai, only eighteen at time of death. Studied in Australia from ages of thirteen to seventeen, but his results were so poor his father forced him to return to Hong Kong, where he enrolled in the foundation course at St George’s School. Because he’d already gained his driving licence abroad, he got a Hong Kong licence as soon as he turned eighteen, without having to take the test. Family friends say that unlike his business-minded father, Yue Wing-lai lived for pleasure. He frequently got into trouble, growing estranged from his parents. Oh, this is interesting, he was born on the Mid-Autumn Festival, and died on April Fool’s Day...’

  ‘Ahem.’ Inspector Lok coughed a couple of times. Ah Sing looked up to see all five suspects staring at him, upset.

  ‘My subordinate is inexperienced and unguarded with his words,’ said the inspector. ‘If he’s been disrespectful to the deceased, please forgive him.’ Ah Sing quickly nodded in apology.

  Seeing no further reactions, Inspector Lok continued. ‘Next, I’d like to discuss Yue Wing-yee. May I proceed, sir?’

  Ping. YES.

  ‘Yue Wing-yee, aged thirty-two, is the second child of Yuen Man-bun and Yue Chin-yau. Like his elder brother, Wing-yee studied at St George’s School, then went to America for a degree in Business Administration, following which he returned to take on the deputy directorship for the Fung Hoi Consortium, that is, second in command to his father. Various people have testified that Wing-yee’s character is very different from Wing-lai’s, serious about his work, every bit as capable as his father and even his grandfather. His father respected him a great deal – they had an excellent relationship.’

  Despite the compliment, Wing-yee’s expression remained tense. Inspector Lok must think he was unhappy at Ah Sing’s negative remarks about his older brother, but in fact he was still feeling intense guilt. He started to think that if this comatose detective did find the truth, even if that meant him going to jail, he’d feel relieved.

  ‘Yue Wing-yee married Choi Ting last year. Choi Ting, aged thirty-four, is the youngest daughter of Choi Yuan-sam, founder of Choi Electronics. Before leaving her job on her marriage, she was a general practitioner at Cedar Medical Centre.’ Inspector Lok fixed his gaze on the Yue daughter-in-law as he went on. ‘There are rumours that Choi Ting’s union with Yue Wing-yee was necessitated by Choi Electronics having fallen into debt in recent years, requiring a capital injection from the consortium––’

  ‘Don’t you dare sling mud at me, Inspector Lok.’ Choi Ting’s face had grown red and twisted with fury. ‘You’re implying I married Wing-yee for money—’

  ‘I’m just reading the report, and I stress that these are only rumours,’ the inspector said calmly. ‘But after all, of the five people here, you have the strongest motive for murder. Wing-yee and Wing-lai stood to inherit from their father’s death, but they weren’t in urgent need of money. It’s your family that’s in need of cash. There’ve been reports that Choi Electronics has already lost one hundred and eighty million Hong Kong dollars this year – that’s more than twenty-three million US dollars – and if Wing-yee were to become the director of Fung Hoi, transferring funds to your father would become much—’

  ‘You... you bastard! This is all lies! I, I...’ Choi Ting’s poise was shattered by her apoplectic outburst, until it seemed she might scream. She stood up, glaring wildly at the inspector.

  ‘Inspector Lok, you’ve guessed wrong.’ Old Tong patted Choi Ting’s arm, motioning her to take her seat again. ‘Choi Electronics is undeniably in financial difficulties – that’s a fact. But Boss-man was clearly aware of the company’s potential, and even before Master Wing-yee’s wife entered the household, he was already collaborating with them and providing monetary assistance from time to time. It was through these transactions that Master Wing-yee first met Miss Choi. Inspector, you said earlier that Old-boss was known as the “Fung Hoi Shark” – he never made a bad deal. I have many documents proving that he was already planning to invest in Choi Electronics before his death. If Second Mistress was indeed the murderer, wouldn’t she be damaging her own interests?’

  Inspector Lok said nothing, only looked away from Choi Ting and returned to his book. Choi Ting felt this wasn’t necessarily a sign of weakness – his silence didn’t indicate agreement with Old Tong’s words. Like a veteran gambler, he’d keep his cards close to his chest, leaving his opponents guessing.

  ‘Finally, the third son of the deceased, Yue Wing-lim. Twenty-four years old and an engineering student at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, though he’s currently taking some time off. We heard he wasn’t close to the deceased, but had always been particularly filial to his mother, visiting her almost every day when she was hospitalized. The victim asked of Wing-lim that he finish his studies and start working at the consortium, but he wanted to become a professional photographer instead, so there was some friction between the two.’

  This had come to light the day before, when the inspector asked Old Tong to guess who, other than a burglar, might have been the murderer – though the older man had insisted at the time that Wing-lim couldn’t possibly be the killer.

  ‘Huh.’ That was Wing-lim’s only comment – he wasn’t going to kick up a fuss like his sister-in-law.

  ‘That’s all the background information we have about the Yue household. Now I’ll move on to their whereabouts before and after the—’

  Dub-dub. NO.

  ‘What?’ A pause, as if he’d forgotten the other person couldn’t speak. ‘Sir, do you want me to ask further questions? About this information?’

  Dub-dub.
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  ‘Oh? But... you want to ask about a particular person?’

  Ping.

  ‘Is it a man?’

  Dub-dub.

  ‘Is it Choi Ting?’

  Dub-dub. Nanny Wu looked stunned.

  ‘Is it Wu Kam Mui?’

  Dub-dub.

  Baffled that the only two women present had received a NO, Choi Ting was about to speak when she heard Inspector Lok say, ‘Then... you want to know more about Yue Chin-yau?’

  Ping. The five suspects let out a sigh of relief, though this was even more confusing – why was the old detective so interested in dead people? First Wing-lai, now this.

  ‘Sir, Yue Chin-yau’s background is quite straightforward, there’s not much more to say.’ Still, Inspector Lok flipped through his notebook for the right page. ‘Only daughter of Yue Fung, wife of Yuen Man-bun, three children – we’ve covered all that. Died of pancreatic cancer this May, aged fifty-nine. Apart from a bout of post-partum depression a year after the wedding, there’s been nothing of significance. Sir, do you think she has anything to do with the case?’

  The pointer refused to pick YES or NO, but moved rhythmically between the two.

  ‘Do you mean “perhaps”?’

  Ping.

  ‘Then let me ask – do you have anything to add?’ Inspector Lok turned back to the other five. They looked at each other, but no one wanted to speak first.

  ‘No?’

  ‘There’s just—’ Nanny Wu began timidly. ‘It may be nothing, but the night of the crime, it was the hundredth day after Missy’s death, and I’d prepared some hell money and offerings to burn for her.’

  ‘Ah, that’s right, Mr Wong mentioned that too,’ said the inspector. ‘And he said you’d had a paper mansion just like Fung Ying Villa made specially for her.’