Mandarin Yellow (Socrates Cheng mysteries)

by Steven M. Roth

  SOCRATES, WITH THE aid of Eldest Brother who dismissed his chest wounds as superficial, ripped two electrical cords from table lamps and trussed Jade in the traditional Chinese method of subjugation so that her bound wrists and ankles were joined together at the small of her back. Everything else was held in place by a long chord that also tightened around her neck. If Jade moved too much, she would strangle herself.

  Jade lay on her side on the carpet like a roped steer. Her eyes remained open and followed Socrates’ movement as he walked to the farthest corner of the room.

  Socrates called Detective Harte. “We won’t have to get together tomorrow night, Detective.”

  “Wait a minute, Cheng, we had an understanding,” Harte said. “I told you, I expect you to bring me up to date, then get the hell out of the investigation. Didn’t I make myself clear?”

  “You did, Detective, perfectly clear, but you didn’t let me finish. The investigation’s done. We have the killer, we caught her and have her tied up here.”

  Before he could complete his statement, Socrates heard Jade shout, “No, Eldest Brother. No. Don’t . . . .”

  Socrates spun around to face Jade and Eldest Brother.

  Jade laid on her side with her mouth wide open in a soundless scream. Blood soaked the front of her white silk blouse. Foam burped from the gash in her windpipe, forming percolating bubbles that morphed into elongated teardrops and clung to the open wound in her throat until they burst under their own weight, spraying a fine pink mist on the carpet below.

  Socrates watched, frozen in place, as Jade’s eyes rolled back in her head until all he could see were the white of her eyes.

  Socrates took a tentative step toward Jade, but stopped when Eldest Brother held up his palm, silently insisting that Socrates stay away.

  Socrates nodded his assent, stopped walking, and warily watched Eldest Brother, ready to defend himself against attack, if necessary.

  Eldest Brother looked hard at Socrates and held his gaze, then let go of the blooded knife, dropping it to the floor. He turned away from Socrates and back to Jade, looked down at her, and said in Mandarin, speaking quietly, “You brought unforgiveable shame to us all, Little Sister.” He lowered himself to the floor, lifted Bing-jade by her shoulders and rested her head on his lap.

  Socrates turned away and walked to the other side of the living room. He picked up his cell phone from the carpet, saw that he still was connected to Detective Harte, and said, “Detective, are you still there?”

  A woman responded. “This is Sergeant Mooney. Detective Harte’s on his way to the general location of your call. We triangulated on your location from cell phone towers, but I need you to tell me exactly where you’re at, what’s the address, so I can relay it to the detective in his vehicle.”

  After Socrates finished his call, he looked over at Eldest Brother. Socrates nodded and fanned out his palms in a respectful and submissive silent inquiry.

  Eldest Brother nodded his acquiescence.

  Socrates walked over to Eldest Brother, and lowered himself onto the carpet next to Jade. He sat there, alongside brother and sister, and gently stroked Jade’s insensate cheek, while he waited for the police to arrive.

  SOCRATES’ RETURN TO some semblance of a normal life after Jade’s death was slow, but steady. He gradually came to terms with the discrepancy he’d experienced between the Jade he thought he knew and loved and the Jade he uncovered.

  He questioned if he should have anticipated Jade’s role in the burglary and murders, if he had been in denial, and had turned a blind eye to the pathological nature of her celebrity worship he’d been aware of since college. He ultimately concluded that Jade’s obsessive adoration of Madam Chiang had been susceptible to varying interpretations and that he could not have anticipated the deadly consequences of her fixation.

  He considered reopening his pen store, but decided not to. Selling collectible fountain pens now seemed too trivial after what he’d been through.

  BING-FA, TOO, EXPERIENCED a difficult time after Jade’s actual death and the Twins’ and Eldest Brother’s symbolic deaths.

  The police eventually returned the stolen objects to him. Bing-fa, in turn, delivered these items to the People’s Republic Embassy, although not in time for Linda Fong to include them in the rescheduled opening of the exhibit.

  Bing-fa’s repatriation of the cultural treasures did not restore his face in the eyes of the People’s Republic government or among the inhabitants of Washington’s Chinatown community. Bing-fa’s honor, the grail he had engaged Socrates to locate and retrieve for him, appeared to be irrevocably lost, not only because the burglary and postponement of the exhibit had occurred under his stewardship, but also because of the roles his children had played in the events.

  A DISTRICT OF Columbia grand jury indicted Eldest Brother for the crimes of First Degree Murder and the lesser included offense, Voluntary Manslaughter, in connection with Jade’s death. Bing-wu refused to speak up and enter a plea during his arraignment. The court, therefore, entered a Not Guilty plea on his behalf for both felony charges.

  Bing-fa hired Bos Smyth as criminal defense counsel to represent Eldest Brother at his trial. He selected Smyth because Socrates, in a brief but unanswered note he sent Bing-fa shortly after Eldest Brother’s arrest, suggested Smyth as one of the best criminal defense lawyers in Washington.

  Much to Socrates’ surprise, after a two day trial the jury found Eldest Brother not guilty on both counts.

  Socrates recognized the verdicts for what they were. It was a clear, but understandable, case of jury nullification, Socrates decided.

  Eldest Brother returned to Bing-fa’s penthouse suite to live.

  IN THE WEEKS following Jade’s death, Socrates became increasingly alarmed as he uncovered more and more evidence that his father’s dementia had started much further back in time than either Socrates or his mother had realized.

  In the course of working through his father’s latest tax problem, Socrates came across many of his parents’ bills that had not been removed from their envelopes and were left unpaid in the back of a desk drawer. He also discovered several telephone messages from physicians’ and dentists’ offices concerning his father’s missed appointments.

  Worst of all from Socrates’ point of view, because he knew how sharp and vital his father’s mind had been not all that long ago, were the many examples of his father’s increasing difficulty performing common, everyday cognitive functions. Most telling to Socrates was his father’s inability to remember how to use the automatic drip coffee maker to set up coffee for the next morning, a task he had routinely performed every night for himself and his wife for as far back in time as Socrates could remember.

  Socrates retained Max Pogue to head off criminal tax proceedings against his parents and to try to have the tax penalties and interest waived by the IRS. Pogue, based on significant medical evidence that Socrates’ father had been in the nascent stages of dementia when he failed to file tax returns, resolved the issues with the United States Attorney’s office to avoid having them pursue criminal prosecutions. He could not, however, persuade the IRS to waive the penalties and interest since Socrates’ mother had not raised an alarm over the three years she had not signed tax returns. Socrates considered this outcome to be an expensive gift, but a gift to his parents nonetheless, a small price to pay in return for the authorities’ agreement to not pursue criminal charges.

  Socrates borrowed additional funds from his bank to pay off the second tax debt. He had no qualms about doing this for his parents. All he had to do now was to take the next step necessary for him to earn sufficient income to repay the expanded bank loan. In this regard, he had a few ideas about what he wanted to do, so he turned to that step next and placed a telephone call.

  “HELLO, TODD. IT’S Socrates.” He hesitated. “I’ve thought about what you said. I want to return to law practice.”

  “I’m pleased, but surprised,” Todd said. “I thought when we
talked before you said that . . . .”

  “I know, but circumstances have changed since then.” Socrates took a deep breath. “I’d prefer to be part-time at first, to make sure it’s right for me and for the firm, but I’d like to give it a shot.”

  Todd said nothing.

  After several silent seconds, Socrates said, “What do you think?”

  “We can have an office ready tomorrow morning if you want,” Todd answered.

  SOCRATES DID HIS best to make his reentry into law practice work for him and the firm, but it did not come easily. At first, his heart wasn’t in it, but after the passage of several months, little by little, Socrates slipped into the day-to-day routine of going to the office, and latched onto the many rituals of daily law practice. Eventually, he found comfort in the regularity of his days and in the social contacts that being present at the law firm offered him.

  Yet this evolving comfort belied an underlying, continued disquiet that gnawed at him. Something as yet unarticulated eroded Socrates’ peace of mind. And though it was as yet undefined, whatever it was, it definitely had its unshakable grip on Socrates, and would not let go of him.

  EIGHT MONTHS AFTER he began working at the law firm, Socrates dialed Bing-fa’s private telephone number at the Golden Dragon and arranged to meet him at the restaurant. This was their first communication since Jade’s death except for the brief, but unanswered note Socrates had sent Bing-fa recommending Bos Smyth as Eldest Brother’s defense counsel.

  Bing-fa was sitting behind his desk when Socrates arrived. He didn’t stand to greet Socrates as he’d done in the past. Instead, he motioned Socrates over to a chair facing him.

  At first, Bing-fa and Socrates remained silent while they sized each other up, each being suspicious of the other’s inclination toward him. They were like two aged, reunited prize fighters who long ago had fought a contentious match that had ended in a hotly disputed decision and had generated such controversy that all these years later it continued on unresolved in the minds of both the match’s victor and the loser.

  Bing-fa finally broke the silence. Speaking in Mandarin, he said, “Your presence here uproots memories I prefer to leave buried.”

  Socrates, replying in English, said, “This isn’t pleasant for me either.”

  “I am grateful for your help concerning Eldest Brother’s trial,” Bing-fa said, “although I do blame you for the misfortune that befell my family.”

  Socrates felt his insides knot. He slowed his breathing and resisted the urge to engage in verbal jousting with Bing-fa, even under the circumstances that motivated his visit today. He knew Jade would have disapproved of any such breach of etiquette by him toward her father, and somehow, for reasons he did not understand, but acknowledged, what Jade would have thought if she were still alive, still mattered to him. So he said nothing and didn’t challenge the accusatory premise underlying Bing-fa’s statement.

  “Tell me why you have come here today,” Bing-fa said.

  Socrates paused even though he’d rehearsed his opening statement dozens of times over the previous few hours. He straightened up in his chair, looked into Bing-fa’s eyes, and said, “I’ve come to realize there was more behind the burglary than ever came out. Much more.”

  Bing-fa shrugged. “I do not know what you mean, “he said.

  “Actually,” Socrates said, his voice laced with irony, “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

  Socrates’ words, his oblique accusation, words intended to shock Bing-fa, had their intended effect. Bing-fa noticeably stiffened. He placed his hands on his lap, formed a tepee with his fingers, and frowned.

  “Explain yourself,” he said.

  “After Jade’s death, I found myself with too much time on my hands for my own good, too much time to brood over what had happened. I decided to take on a project to occupy myself. I decided to write a magazine article about the Secret Protocol, the original one, not Jade’s substitute document. It would be a popular history piece for Smithsonian Magazine or perhaps for National Geographic.

  “The first thing I did was to see if there was anything unrelated to the gallery’s exhibit known about the document. I researched it on the Internet, but found nothing.

  “I also met with several sinologists and museum curators at the Smithsonian’s Freer and Sackler Galleries here in DC to ask them what they knew about it. And I sent e-mail inquiries to China scholars around the world.

  “I asked everyone the same two questions: Had they ever heard of the Secret Protocol before the publicity for the exhibit and, if so, under what circumstances?

  “I expected someone to write back saying he’d seen the document himself or knew of someone who’d seen it. If not that, then I anticipated, at the very least, being told there had been rumors of its existence over the past sixty-five or so years.

  “But none of that occurred. I received the same response from everyone: No one had seen the document, knew anyone who had seen it, or had ever heard rumors of its existence before the publicity for the exhibit.” Socrates paused, to let this sink in.

  “Don’t you find that curious?” Socrates said.

  “No,” Bing-fa said, “I do not. You have read too much into the replies, looking for some sinister meaning where none exists. The answer is obvious if one looks at this objectively, is it not?”

  “Really?” Socrates said. He strained to control the sarcasm he felt. “And what would that obvious answer be?”

  “That the existence of the document was a well guarded state secret, and therefore the document was purposely hidden in the Chairman’s secret archives, away from outside knowledge. That is why the document is known as the Secret Protocol.” He smiled and nodded, punctuating the correctness of his statement with a sharp chin thrust.

  Socrates arched an eyebrow, but let the comment pass. He continued with his rehearsed statement.

  “I did something else to fill-in my free time,” he said, “while gathering information for my article. I reworked the written timeline of events I had prepared when I investigated the burglary.

  “This time,” Socrates said, “I described everything I remembered about my involvement, as well as everything I’d read about the various stolen objects. By creating this expanded chronology, I generated new questions for which I didn’t have answers. One question, in particular, bothered me.”

  “What would that be?” Bing-fa asked.

  “Why you recruited me, why you didn’t just wait for the cops to do their job.”

  Bing-fa smiled condescendingly from the corners of his closed mouth.

  “I answered that question the first day I spoke with you at your writing store. You obviously have forgotten.”

  “I didn’t forget,” Socrates said, “and it’s still a question for me.”

  “Then I will answer this for you once again. I engaged your assistance because the Embassy and I preferred to keep the matter private, just as I told you.”

  Socrates shook his head as if dismissing Bing-fa’s self-evident response.

  “At the time,” Socrates said, “when you said that, I didn’t think about your answer. My focus was on how helping you might help my relationship with Jade and help expedite Jade’s reintroduction to her family.

  “Looking back now, I realize your answer begged the question: Why did you want to avoid publicity and have the investigation pursued privately? What was it you didn’t want discovered and disclosed in public?”

  “And do you have an answer to your question, Mr. Cheng?”

  Socrates nodded. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  SOCRATES INHALED SLOWLY, taking a very deep breath and briefly holding it to center himself.

  “You didn’t want the authorities to be the ones who recovered the stolen objects and took possession of them as evidence, at least not until you finished doing what you planned to do with them.

  “You wanted me to recover all the objects so I’d return them directly to you. This was important because ther
e was one item you didn’t want the police to recover and focus their attention on. Once I delivered everything to you, you intended to remove that object from among the others before the police took custody of everything as evidence.”

  Socrates and Bing-fa cast cold gazes at one another.

  “I didn’t see it at the time,” Socrates said, “but it all makes sense in hindsight. It was Jade’s forged Secret Protocol that clued me in.” He paused briefly to gather his thoughts.

  “You didn’t want the authorities to get their hands on the original Secret Protocol,” Socrates said, “the one supposedly found among Mao’s private papers.”

  “You are merely speculating,” Bing-fa said. “You have no basis for making these statements. Why would I care?”

  “You cared, all right, and I know why. We both know why. And it had nothing to do with Jade’s forged document. It had to do with your own agenda, an agenda that preceded the exhibit by decades.”

  SOCRATES CROSSED HIS arms over his chest and paused to slow his breathing. He locked his eyes on Bing-fa’s eyes. Neither man blinked.

  “You cared,” Socrates said, “because the original Secret Protocol, just like Jade’s substitute Secret Protocol, was itself a fake.”

  Bing-fa showed no surprise, no disagreement, and no anger at Socrates’ provocative assertion. He merely shrugged his indifference, and otherwise expressed no discernible reaction to Socrates’ statement.

  “You have an admirable intellect, Mr. Cheng, but your overly fertile imagination misdirects it.”

  Socrates shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Contrary to what you led me to believe, the Mandarin Yellow was not the principle target of the burglary.

  “My search for the Mandarin Yellow was a deliberate misdirection intended by you to entice me into helping you so I would recover all the stolen items, including the original Secret Protocol. That way I would unknowingly achieve your real goal by redelivering the original document to you as part of my recovery of the entire cache of stolen objects.”