The White Ghost

by James R Benn

  “You can call from here?” I asked.

  “On that,” Sexton said, gesturing to the field telephone in its canvas case on a table against the wall. “We call the main switchboard at the main navy base and they patch us through.”

  “They don’t ask who it is at the switchboard?”

  “Other than Coastwatcher Station, no. Feel free to use it if you want.”

  “No thanks, not unless I can make a collect call to Boston.” I left, and it seemed clear that any number of people could have used this telephone, or others like it all across Tulagi, without being detected. But who was on the other end?

  Sexton had said he’d contact the PT skipper to confirm the delay and inform him I might be along for the ride tomorrow. I’d stressed that the weather delay had to be believable. Otherwise, Kari could bolt and disappear into the bush on any one of several of the Solomon Islands. Sexton understood, but I could see he was nearly as concerned at the prospect of losing a good Coastwatcher as he was about Deanna’s death.

  I decided to stop in Chinatown on my way to Sesapi. I needed to talk to Kaz’s girl, and it was probably best to do it while he was away. I didn’t want him to be offended by my questions and get gallant about it. In a murder investigation, pushy questions are sometimes all you have. In this investigation, that was true in spades. Besides, it was important to talk to her and Rui Chang in case they’d heard anything about Deanna’s death. I was sure they didn’t miss much of what happened in their domain.

  I pulled over close to where Rui Chang’s house was and surveyed the street. There were a half a dozen or so places where Jai-li could’ve lived, but I didn’t feel like knocking on that many doors. I chose an establishment that sold vegetables and asked the storekeeper if he knew where Jai-li Chang lived. That got a lot of negative headshaking as he showed me strings of red peppers hanging from the low beams, apparently offering me a good price. I declined, backing out under a barrage of Chinese that could have been curses or the special of the day.

  I got out into the street in time to see what I’d hoped to spot. A kid racing out the back of the store, cutting through the rear of two buildings, and showing up close to a house painted a gleaming white with azure blue awnings shading the windows from the hot sun. I walked closer and waited, hands clasped behind my back, away from the automatic in my holster.

  It didn’t take long. A single guy descended from the house, dressed in a loose white shirt that obviously covered a pistol in his waistband. He was big for a Chinese guy, broad shouldered, with big hands. I caught his glance off to my side and knew there was another guy behind me, but that was okay. I didn’t come for trouble. I hoped the same was true of them.

  “I’d like to speak with Jai-li Chang, please,” I said.

  “She is grieving the loss of her brother,” the big guy said. “She sees no one.”

  “Tell her I’ve come to pay my respects,” I said. “I’m a friend of the baron’s, and I’m investigating the murder of Shan Chang.” I figured this would have been one of the few occasions when Kaz had thrown his title around.

  “Follow me,” he said, after a moment’s consideration. I’d guessed right.

  We took the steps up to the house and stood under the shade of a palm tree. The bodyguard tapped my holster and I nodded. He took my pistol and handed it off to his silent partner, then patted me down. I had a jackknife in my pocket, which he also handed off.

  “Apologies, but no weapons in the house,” he said. He knocked on the door, which opened a few seconds later, the metallic sound of bolts and latches being released evident even through the heavy wood door.

  “Is this the usual level of security?” I asked.

  “A member of the family has been killed, and another murder committed nearby,” he said. “I am Zhou. It is my duty to allow no harm to come to Jai-li Chang.”

  “Has anyone tried to harm Jai-li recently?” I asked.

  “Piotr said you were quite direct, Lieutenant Boyle,” a voice spoke from the shadows. Jai-li moved into the hallway, the light sparkling off her white silk dress, the design of a ferocious dragon embroidered in golden thread across her breast.

  “Miss Chang,” I said, giving a little bow in her direction. I don’t even know why I did it; maybe she seemed a bit like oriental royalty. “Please accept my condolences. May I ask you a few questions?”

  “Certainly, Lieutenant Boyle,” she said, and led me into a sitting room. The rattan chairs were set at a far end of the room, away from the open windows. Zhou glanced outside and then retreated to the doorway. This was a very careful household. “I will assist in any way I can.”

  “Thank you. First, can you tell me if you knew Daniel Tamana?”

  “The Melanesian boy who was killed? No, I did not.”

  “Were you aware he’d been asking for your brother the day he was killed?” I asked.

  “We did hear reports that someone was asking for a member of the family,” she admitted. “As you can see, we are very careful about such things.” I gave her points for honesty. Rui Chang hadn’t disclosed any such knowledge.

  “Do you have any idea why Daniel would have been asking for him?”

  “None,” Jai-li said. “Do you?”

  “Not yet. But I believe there is a connection between the two deaths. I think it is possible that Daniel knew your brother from Vella Lavella. He worked on a coffee plantation on Rendova and then for a coconut planter on Pavau.”

  “It is possible,” Jai-li said, her hands folded gracefully in her lap. She had a soft, rounded face, and full lips adorned with red lipstick. Rui might have had a few years on her, plus sharper cheekbones and heavier makeup. Wisps of black hair fell across Jai-li’s face, giving her an innocent and youthful look. I knew she was young, but I wasn’t certain of her innocence. “Shan did much business on Rendova, less so on Pavau, I think. It was somewhat distant and isolated.”

  “Are your brother’s business interests the same as yours?” I asked, trying for the most delicate phrase.

  “Piotr said you were a police detective before the war,” Jai-li said with a gentle laugh. “And I see you still are.”

  “All I do is ask questions,” I said, spreading my hands in an open gesture. “Which often makes people uncomfortable. In normal conversation, people avoid a question they don’t want to discuss. The person who inquired feels bad and drops it, maybe even apologizes for intruding. But the police don’t mind making people uncomfortable. It often helps to reveal the truth, even if it may be unpleasant.”

  “Yes,” she said. “We do not discuss family business quite so readily here.”

  “A Chinese custom?” I asked.

  “Perhaps,” she said, with a small shrug of the shoulders. “It may have more to do with our status as outsiders. The English tolerate us because we run many small businesses and keep the goods and supplies they rely on flowing to them. The Melanesians like the things we sell them, since they have no means to produce much on their own. But there is always a resentment of outsiders lurking beneath the civilized veneer of this colonial outpost, don’t you think? Especially successful ones.”

  “Oh, I think the civilized veneer is stretched pretty thin everywhere these days,” I said. “Now, I must ask again about your brother’s business interests and your own.”

  “Let me say this, Lieutenant Boyle,” Jai-li began, folding her hands demurely in her lap. “If either Rui or myself were found to have been killed, there would be questions. Are you familiar with the triads?” The last word came out as a whisper.

  “Yes,” I said. “Chinese gangs, like the Italian Mafia.”

  “Societies,” she said, with a slight shrug, as if to show it was all in how you looked at things. “We are not members, but we are associated with the Wo Shing Wo triad. We provide assistance from time to time. Assistance of a nature I decline to discuss.”

  �
��You’re a Blue Lantern, then,” I said.

  “Lieutenant Boyle, you surprise me,” Jai-li said, gracing me with a smile. “Yes, that is the correct term. We are not initiates, but rather associates. I only tell you this much to draw a distinction between my brother and Rui and I. He wanted no part of such business. Even though he was the oldest, he never sought to continue in our father’s footsteps. He wanted his own life, free of any obligations to the society.”

  “But he needed money, I understand.”

  “Yes. When the Japanese came, he lost all his goods and had to flee into the jungle. Since he was a kind man, many of the planters owed him money. Who knows when they would have paid? After the war? Or might they simply walk away from their losses? Shan was not in a good position, financially.”

  “The bamboo plant your sister gave Jack Kennedy to deliver—that was not simply a gift, was it?”

  “No, I am afraid not,” Jai-li said. “Rui is a better businesswoman than I. Ruthless, some say. She wanted to remind Shan of his obligation to us, and his foolishness in striking out on his own. I hope you do not need to speak further of this. It does not reflect well upon our family.”

  “I will have to speak to Rui,” I said.

  “That will not be possible for a few days,” she said. “My sister has sailed for New Caledonia. A business trip to meet with our French colleagues there. Necessary, even with Shan’s death.”

  “Thank you for being honest with me, Miss Chang,” I said. “It helps us narrow the investigation.”

  “Please, call me Jai-li, Billy.” she said. “The baron spoke so much about you, I feel we are already friends.” I was surprised but pleased that she allowed this informality, so I decided to press my luck.

  “Then let me take a little more of your time, Jai-li. I assume you’ve heard of the killing today. Deanna Pendleton was stabbed not far from here.”

  “Yes, of course. I was very sad to hear of it. We met at Captain Sexton’s and I was impressed by her bravery.”

  “Do your people have any idea who could have done it?” I asked.

  “Only that it would not have been anyone from Chinatown. We frown on violence here. We do not wish to be declared off limits by your shore patrol. It is important that the servicemen who come here feel safe. Safe enough to freely spend and contribute to the community.”

  “When you say you frown upon violence, what do you mean exactly?” I understood the part about contributions. Every merchant in town paid a percentage to the Changs, so it was in everyone’s interest to keep crime down. The gritty street type of crime at least.

  “That it would make Zhou extremely unhappy, which would not be good for the parties involved. Or their families. Is that clear enough?”

  “I expect that approach works quite well,” I said. “So no reports of suspicious strangers or a sighting of someone with Deanna?”

  “Billy, to most of the people here, all gwai lo look alike.”

  “White ghost,” I said. “Or is it white devil?” I’d heard the term plenty back in Boston’s Chinatown, never uttered in a kindly tone.

  “It does mean white ghost, from the color of your skin,” she said. “Is there a connection between Shan’s death and the others?”

  “I think so,” I said, suspecting I could trust Jai-li, at least as long as I didn’t borrow money from her. “I believe Daniel Tamana, your brother, and Deanna all knew something that got them killed. Shan may not have been aware of what he knew, or the implications of it. Daniel knew for sure, and Deanna must have figured it out for herself.”

  “And all three are dead, with no trace of the killer,” Jai-li said. “It is indeed a white ghost you are seeking.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  As I was leaving, Jai-li told me to please ask for any assistance I might need to find her brother’s killer. She told me to ask for Zhou. Jai-li said goodbye and left me with Zhou in the hallway, waiting for my automatic to be returned. In a few minutes a servant delivered the .45 and my jackknife on a platter. Classy.

  “They’ve been cleaned,” I said, feeling a slight oily sheen on the knife.

  “In this climate, rust is the enemy of any metal,” Zhou said. “I hope you don’t mind that we took the liberty.”

  “Not at all,” I said, holstering the pistol, wondering if a pressed uniform and well-oiled pistol were specialties of the house. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Ask anyone in Chinatown for Zhou,” he said. “They will bring you right to me.”

  “What if I ask for Jai-li?”

  “They will bring you to me even faster.” I think he almost smiled.

  It didn’t take long to drive to the PT base at Sesapi, where Kaz and I had first stepped foot on Tulagi. By now, if luck were on his side, he would have seen Dickie Miller. Considering his choice of Chang sisters, luck was definitely running Kaz’s way. Or had Jai-li chosen Kaz? Still, it was good luck any way it shook out.

  I hoped for some of that luck to rub off when I talked to John Kari. I had him at the scene of the crime, but that was it. I needed something else, any kind of clue to support his involvement. I remembered that the signals unit was housed in an old police station, and hoped I’d have need of a cell there before long, at least for one of the murders.

  I parked the jeep near the wharf, where a line of ten PTs were moored. Sesapi was hardly the garden spot of Tulagi. On the steep bank opposite the wharf, tents and jury-rigged lean-tos held everything from crew’s quarters to machine shops. Palm fronds and coconut logs were the mainstay of these structures, which gave shade and looked like they might keep out the rain if it held to light showers. This was a working PT base, miles from the kind of navy Captain Ritchie was so fond of.

  Well-trodden paths led in every direction, some of them to winding steps set into the embankment. I took them through a beehive of activity as sailors rolled steel drums of aviation gas to be stacked up under crudely painted signs.

  Flammable. No Smoking.

  Yeah, no kidding. I reminded myself to take a different route back, not that it would matter much if one of these fifty-five gallon cans went up. I was after PT-157, Lieutenant Liebenow commanding. Sexton had told me I could hitch a ride to Rendova with them, since they were taking Porter and Kari in that direction. I found it by spotting Silas Porter sitting on a crate dockside, a pile of radio gear beside him. Next to him was John Kari, cleaning an M1 carbine. They wore identical sheath knives.

  “Hello, Billy,” Kari said, looking up from his work.

  “Hear you’re coming along for the ride to Rendova,” Porter said.

  “I am. I got held up in Chinatown, but then I heard you wouldn’t be leaving until tomorrow.” I watched their faces. Both gave weary nods, the sad acceptance of death in wartime.

  “Poor Deanna,” Porter said. “Hard to believe after all she endured.”

  “Any idea who did it?” Kari asked, wiping his hands and wrapping the carbine in heavy waxed paper before taking a Thompson submachine gun and rubbing a greasy brown substance all over it.

  “No, but I have a couple of clues,” I said, taking a seat on one of the wooden crates. “What is that stuff?” I asked innocently as I ran my fingers along the stock of the Thompson, and the Cosmoline came away brown, the color of the stain on Deanna’s collar.

  “Cosmoline,” Kari answered. “It’s to preserve the weapons. We’re going to stash a couple of crates in the jungle, for use by the Zeleboes on Choiseul.”

  “They’re a tribe who are quite anti-Japanese,” Porter explained. “They lost a lot of men when the Japs invaded. Plantation workers, that sort of thing. When we retake Choiseul, these will come in handy. We’ll hit the Japs from behind while your lot take the beaches.”

  “But until then, the metal would rust and the wood rot without lots of Cosmoline,” Kari said. “It’s easy to put on but the devil’s own work to clean off.” He
started to disassemble the Thompson and work the greasy mixture into the weapon.

  “Looks like you’ve been at it all day,” I said, trying to sound impressed with his work ethic.

  “Silas is the one with the hard job,” Kari said, nodding in the direction of the radio parts. “When he tested everything this morning, he found a bad output coil in our transmitter.”

  “We had a spare, but it wouldn’t do to start off using it right away,” Porter said. “John fetched one from the communications section back at the base. So we were glad enough of the delay. Can’t nip off for spare parts once you’re out in the bush.”

  “Right,” I said. “John, I think I saw you on the road when I was in Chinatown. Driving pretty fast, if I recall.”

  “Yes, on my way back here. I saw the ambulance but had no idea it was for Deanna. It’s so hard to believe, even now.” He shook his head sadly, and I thought Porter shot a glance in my direction. Protective, or did he have his own suspicions? John Kari was a hard read; with his dark skin, bushy hair, shell necklace, and precise English accent, he was a walking contradiction. Not like anyone I’d ever met before. I was having a tough time deciding if he was a practiced liar or expressing genuine grief and surprise.

  “John always drives fast,” Porter explained. “He’d never driven a vehicle before he was nineteen. Not many in the islands. Not many roads, for that matter.”

  “I do like speed, I must admit,” Kari said with a gentle laugh. I watched him work, his small, delicate hands caressing the weaponry as he spread the Cosmoline everywhere. Were those the hands of a killer? I looked at their knives again. He and Porter wore identical sheaths, the narrow grip of a dagger visible.

  “What kind of knives are those?” I asked. “They don’t look like regular army issue.”