Mandarin Yellow (Socrates Cheng mysteries)

by Steven M. Roth

  This time, however, Jade picked up.

  Socrates sensed a change in Jade’s voice. Her tone suddenly crackled with uncharacteristic chill. It was clear Jade already knew about her brothers’ situations and was not happy about it, that she was, like her father, blaming Socrates for a condition her siblings had visited upon themselves.

  “Yes, Socrates, how are you?” she said, then she paused, although not long enough for Socrates to respond. “I know what you did to the Twins and Eldest Brother,” she said, “so you don’t have to tell me.”

  “What I did? Wait a minute, Jade,” Socrates said. “How did I . . . ?”

  Jade cut him off. “We all would have been better off if you hadn’t become involved in my family’s affairs. I don’t understand why you hate my brothers and wanted to harm them. I thought you loved me.”

  Socrates forced himself to speak slowly, delivering each word in deliberate isolation from the two words bookending it.

  “I . . . became . . . involved, . . Jade, for . . . you, . . . for . . . us. I became involved so your father would eventually approve our relationship. You said you wanted me to help him when I asked you.”

  Socrates paced the living room as he spoke. He clenched and unclenched his hands. How could Jade act as if she’d forgotten their discussion about this?

  “You were wrong to accuse Eldest Brother,” she said. “He was only looking out for our family. Now he will hate me because of you.”

  Once again, Socrates carefully weighed his words before he answered. In spite of his mounting anger at Jade’s lack of faith in him and her convenient amnesia, he did not want to say anything he might regret later. He loved Jade in spite of her taxing family and her myopic view of them.

  “I didn’t want it to turn out this way, Jade, believe me,” he said, “but this wasn’t my fault.” He hesitated, then added, “I think you already know that.”

  “What I know,” Jade said, “is that I must talk with Eldest Brother as soon as possible to repair the damage you caused our family. Goodbye, Socrates.”

  SOCRATES SLEPT POORLY that night. He tossed and turned while his mind ran a movie reel featuring his father’s dementia, his parents’ problems with the IRS, Brandon’s death, and his disastrous conversation with Jade. He finally nodded off a little before 4:45 a.m.

  He woke at 6:30 a.m. in a pool of sweat and went for a short run in Rock Creek Park. He brought his iPod NANO with him, and listened to the audio recording of Shakespeare’s Richard II. His run went well considering how badly he’d slept. He felt less stressed when he returned home.

  After a shower, he stopped by the Wachovia/Wells Fargo Bank branch at 19th and M Streets — across the street from Starbucks and The Sign of the Whale — to put the original Xi’an Agreement and two Secret Protocols into his safe deposit box. He would use the computer scans and printouts he’d made the night before as his working copies.

  While at the bank, he also began the process of obtaining a loan which would be secured by the equity in his condo unit. He planned to use the loan proceeds to pay off his father’s payroll tax debt in one lump sum. He also discussed with the loan officer the possible need to expand the loan’s principal amount because of the second IRS issue. He would use the additional loan proceeds to pay for his parents’ tax indebtedness for the years they hadn’t filed returns once Max Pogue resolved that problem. These were the two solutions Socrates and his mother had agreed to when they talked it over after the meeting with Max Pogue.

  When his mother protested that Socrates should not go into debt to resolve their problems, Socrates put his arm around her shoulders, squeezed lightly, and said, “You and pop took care of me when I was young. Now, it’s my turn to take care of you.”

  Socrates finished at the bank and walked across the street to Starbucks. He commandeered a corner table on the patio away from other customers, and settled in with a cup of coffee, a chocolate donut, and the printed copies he’d made of the Xi’an Agreement and its two Secret Protocols. He opened the Chinese-Mandarin/American English dictionary he’d brought with him and slowly read the Xi’an Agreement, this time paying attention to every word.

  He sipped his coffee and slowly worked his way through all three printouts, making marginal notes in pencil and comparing and contrasting the contents among the documents, taking care to check unfamiliar words against the dictionary. When he finished, he was satisfied he now understood the convoluted relationship that existed among the Xi’an Agreement, the two Secret Protocols, the burglary, the Mandarin Yellow, and the murders of the gallery’s director and the Embassy’s cultural attaché. He was pleased that the timeline he’d recently prepared was fundamental to his understanding all this.

  Socrates finished his coffee and was gathering everything together so he could leave Starbucks when his cell phone sounded.

  “I’m still waiting for you to come in and do the affidavit, Cheng,” Detective Harte said. “We can’t get the warrant and pick up that older brother without it. You need to get your skinny ass in here.”

  Harte paused, apparently, Socrates thought, waiting for him to offer his mea culpa and agree, once again, to come in to the 2D. But Socrates didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew he wasn’t going to show up to prepare the affidavit so he chose passive-aggressive silence as his best response right then, allowing Harte to draw his own inferences from Socrates’ failure to answer.

  Harte picked up on Socrates’ strategy. “You can’t avoid this by saying nothing, Cheng. I’m not bluffing. There’s a killer out there.” He paused to let Socrates respond. When Socrates said nothing, Harte added, “Let’s get this done so we can get him off the streets.”

  Socrates relented, cast aside his passive/aggressive strategy, and quietly said, “Not yet, Detective. I’ve developed a theory about the case. If I’m right, I’ll step away and tell you everything I know. If I’m wrong . . . well . . . I suppose I’ll step back then, too, and tell you everything. I won’t leave anything out. It won’t make any difference at that point, either way.”

  Socrates’ intransigence tested Harte’s patience. “Tell me now,” Harte said. “Don’t play games with me, Cheng, because if you do, I promise you’ll be the loser.”

  “No games, Detective, but not yet,” Socrates said. “Later. Very soon, I hope.” Socrates became silent and waited. He could hear Harte breathing heavily into the telephone’s mouthpiece.

  “What’s going on, Cheng?” Harte said after a long pause, speaking softly, all suggestion of threats and intimidation now absent from his voice. “Talk to me.”

  “I will, but later. Tomorrow, Detective.”

  The edge in Harte’s voice returned. “Not good enough, Cheng, Tell me now.”

  “Tomorrow. You have my word.” With that statement, Socrates abruptly ended the call before Harte could protest.

  As soon as Socrates ended the call, his cell phone rang again. He didn’t bother looking to see who was calling. He was pretty sure it would be Detective Harte calling back. If not, he’d find out later when he picked up his voice mail.

  He walked to Jade’s condo. He intended to clear up her belief he was to blame for her brothers’ situations or to go down in flames trying.

  SOCRATES WALKED THE distance from his condo to Jade’s building in half the time it usually took him, pushing himself hard to burn off nervous energy. When he arrived, he stood outside trying to decide if he should follow some resident in through the front door and go up to Jade’s condo unannounced, as he had the other day, or if he should push the intercom button, announce himself to Jade, then wait for her to buzz him in, giving her the leeway, if she wanted it, to keep him out. Thinking back on the angry reception he received the other day when he arrived at her door unannounced, he opted for the conservative approach and pushed the intercom button.

  He waited almost half a minute for Jade to respond. The intercom sputtered static, and Jade’s filtered voice crackled through.

  “Who’s
there?”

  “It’s me, Jade. I’m downstairs, out front. We need to talk. I’d like to come up.”

  Socrates tried to imagine the range of feelings that Jade, hearing his voice and knowing he was downstairs, might be experiencing at that moment. He gripped the front door handle and waited for the telltale buzzing and click to indicate that the door’s lock had disengaged and he could enter. Seconds passed without any sound. He kept one hand on the door handle and rocked back and forth from one foot to the other.

  The intercom exploded again with static. Socrates looked over at the device on the wall as Jade’s voice again sparked through.

  “This isn’t a good time, Socrates. Come back later.”

  “I’m here now, Jade. Is that a problem? If you don’t want to see me, just say so.”

  “It’s not that.” She paused. “This isn’t a good time for you to come up. Eldest Brother is here right now.”

  Socrates hadn’t considered this possibility. “Damn it, Jade. I don’t care if he’s there. I have things to say to you, to him, too, since he’s there. Buzz me in.”

  He decided he might as well unload everything on his mind, not just absolve himself from Jade’s misperceived assignment of culpability.

  SOCRATES STEPPED OFF the elevator and fast-walked toward Jade’s apartment. He could see Eldest Brother at the far end of the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, standing sentry in front of Jade’s door. Jade was nowhere in sight. Socrates locked eyes with Eldest Brother as he walked closer to him.

  “Tell Jade I’m out here,” he said.

  Eldest Brother continued to stare at Socrates and block the doorway. He said nothing.

  “Jade, I’m out here,” Socrates called out.

  “Let me by, Eldest Brother,” Jade said from inside the condo.

  Socrates noted that she did not tell Eldest Brother to let him into her condo. Not a good sign, he decided.

  Eldest Brother stepped aside.

  Jade kept her distance, standing away from Socrates, her back close to Eldest Brother.

  “Socrates,” Jade said, “I told you. This isn’t a good time. I wish you would respect my feelings about this. Eldest Brother doesn’t want you here. I’m not sure I do either, at least not right now I don’t. Come back later and we’ll talk then. It will be better all around.”

  “This won’t wait, Jade,” Socrates said, “unless what you’re really telling me is you don’t want to see me at all. If that’s it, just say so and I’ll go. Otherwise I’m staying. It’s your call.” His heart raced in anticipation of what her response might be because he knew which answer he didn’t want.

  Jade looked away, said, ‘All right,” and nodded toward Eldest Brother, who stepped aside, opening a narrow path through the entryway into Jade’s foyer.

  Socrates brushed past Eldest Brother and crossed the foyer to the living room, walking quickly over to the bank of windows overlooking Connecticut Avenue. He wanted to put some distance between himself, Jade, and Eldest Brother while he sorted through his thoughts. He glanced down at the street, then immediately turned back to face Jade and Bing-wu.

  “I really don’t appreciate you accusing Eldest Brother of committing crimes, Socrates. He told me what you said to the police. You had no right to say those things.”

  “Oh, really, Jade?” Socrates said, anger now gripping his voice. “Why don’t I have the right? Bing-wu threatened me. Twice, maybe three times. Then he assaulted me. I’d say I have every right.”

  “That’s preposterous, Socrates. Eldest Brother wouldn’t do those things, not any of it. He’s not violent unless you directly threaten him. He’s a Taoist, for God’s sake. You know that.” She paused, then spoke again, but in a gentler voice this time.

  “You’re wrong about Bing-wu,” she said. “You’ve always misjudged Eldest Brother and assumed the worst about him just because he doesn’t want us to be together. I understand why that bothered you, but it wasn’t fair of you to accuse him of the things you said to the police and our father.” Jade turned and looked at Eldest Brother, and smiled.

  Her smile vanished when she faced Socrates again. “If you’re going to continue to misjudge Eldest Brother and tell lies about him, we have nothing more to say to each other. I want you to leave.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Socrates looked over at Eldest Brother, and said to him, “Am I wrong, Bing-wu? Tell me in front of Jade. Am I wrong, am I making up stories about you?”

  Eldest Brother yielded nothing to Socrates. He briefly shifted his eyes and glanced at Jade, then immediately looked back at Socrates. His head never moved. He remained silent, his face expressionless, his overall demeanor serene. His continued silence bewildered and unnerved Socrates.

  Socrates turned back to Jade briefly, then looked again at Eldest Brother.

  “Was it my imagination, Bing-wu, that you threatened me with the note you left in my condo or the other time when you left the coverless catalog on my bed?”

  Socrates no longer expected answers from Eldest Brother. His questions now were rhetorical, offered for Jade’s benefit.

  “Was it also my imagination you later assaulted me on 19th Street? Tell me in front of Jade, have I been wrong about you all along?”

  Eldest Brother looked at Jade, then back at Socrates, but still said nothing. His silence was heavy with ambiguity and latent possibilities.

  Socrates turned back to Jade, and said, “I think you give Eldest Brother too little credit for being human, for having conflicting feelings. I suspect he’s capable of a lot more harm than either of us knows.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean by that, Socrates, but I know Eldest Brother. He could not — no, correct that, he would not — do the things you accused him of.” She turned toward Bing-wu and nodded.

  Socrates decided this verbal ping pong was getting them nowhere. All he was doing by rehashing his feelings about Eldest Brother was putting off what he’d planned to say to Jade in a few days, after he completed some additional investigating to close up a few loose ends that still lingered. But circumstances had changed. It was time to stop avoiding the real issue now that the three of them were together.

  Socrates looked over at Eldest Brother, who continued to stare impassively at him.

  “I didn’t come here to accuse you of anything, Eldest Brother. I didn’t even know you’d be here,” Socrates said. “In fact, I’m not accusing you of anything now. I was just putting some things in context and testing the waters with my questions.” Socrates glanced at Jade, then back at Eldest Brother.

  “Your sister’s right about one thing. I don’t think you did the things I just described. Not anymore, I don’t. I don’t see you as an actual threat to me, but it took me a while to understand that. It took the Twins to convince me.”

  He paused and glanced at Jade, then looked back at Bing-wu. “The worst thing you’re guilty of, as best I can sort everything out, is making some empty threats against me and being imprisoned in a time warp.”

  Eldest Brother looked over at Jade, then back at Socrates. He continued to stare at Socrates as if Socrates was a blank wall.

  “Then why, Socrates, did you —” Jade said, as she walked across the room toward him. Her face had softened and she tilted her head slightly to the left as she looked into Socrates’ eyes. She smiled and extended her arm as she approached him, her palm up, inviting Socrates to take her hand.

  Socrates raised his palm to stop Jade’s approach to him.

  “It took me some time to get it, Jade,” Socrates said, “but I eventually did, with the unintentional help of the Twins. Eventually, it all came together for me.” His voice was heavy and solemn, more sad than accusatory.

  Jade stopped walking and raised her hand to her mouth, covering her lips with her fingertips. She bit her lower lip, then ceded Socrates a nod so slight and so tentative as to be almost unnoticeable.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Jade said, speaking quietly through her splayed f
ingers.

  “What I mean, Jade, is that it was you the whole time, not Eldest Brother. You. Right here under our noses.”

  Socrates paused and looked first at Eldest Brother, then back at Jade, waiting for some response. Obtaining none, he continued. “You killed both the director and Brandon.”

  He paused and locked eyes with Jade. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Then he said, “And I know why.”

  JADE ABRUPTLY STOPPED walking toward Socrates. She raised her right arm and pointed her finger at his face. She stepped back, slowly moving away from him.

  “That’s bizarre, Socrates, even for you. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Apparently, you don’t either. I had nothing to do with any of that. The Twins confessed to you, you said so yourself.”

  Socrates said nothing. He watched Jade closely as she dissembled.

  “I don’t know why you think these horrible things about me,” she said. “How can you believe what you said, Socrates, after all the time we’ve known each other?”

  She canted her head slightly, stepped closer to him, and looked into Socrates’ eyes.

  “You know me better than that, Darling.” Her voice now was an octave higher than normal, almost child-like and barely audible.

  Socrates shook his head and remained silent. Seconds passed with no one saying anything. He maintained eye contact with Jade the entire time.

  Jade’s suppressed rage suddenly exploded.

  “Damn you, Socrates . . . Damn you to Hell. “ She again pointed her accusatory finger at Socrates’ face.

  “Who do you think you are accusing me like that? First the Twins, then Eldest Brother, now me. Where do you get off accusing me like that!”

  Socrates held up his hand to silence her. “I’ll tell you where I get off, Jade.” He spoke far more gently than he felt. His stomach was in turmoil.

  “I admit when I thought about the Twins’ involvement, it took me a while before I understood they were too immature and self-absorbed to plan the burglary and killings by themselves.