Judge Dee At Work

by Robert Van Gulik

  Judge Dee quickly emptied his cup, then he sat back in his chair and began without further preliminaries:

  ‘Before we went to see Guildmaster Ling, I knew only that the beggar was no beggar, and that he had been murdered elsewhere by having the back of his skull bashed in, probably with a flower pot-as suggested by the fine sand and white grit. Then, during our interview with Ling, I suspected for a moment that the guildmaster was involved in this crime. He hadn’t said a word about Wang’s disappearance when he came to visit me, and I thought it strange that later he didn’t inquire what exactly had happened to Wang. But I soon realized that Ling is that unpleasant kind of person who doesn’t take the slightest interest in his personnel, and that he was cross because I had interrupted his family party. What the steward told me about Wang brought to light a fairly clear pattern. The steward said that Wang’s family life had been broken up because he squandered his wealth, and his mentioning Mrs Wang’s jealousy pointed to another woman being involved. Thus I deducted that Wang had become deeply infatuated with a famous courtesan.’

  ‘Why not with some decent girl or woman, or even with a common prostitute?’ the sergeant objected.

  ‘If it had been a decent woman, Wang would not have needed to spend his fortune on her; he could have divorced his wife and married his lady-love. And if she had been a common prostitute, he could have bought her out at a moderate price, and set her up in a small house of her own-all without sacrificing his wealth and his official position. No, I was certain that Wang’s mistress must have been a famous courtesan in the capital, who could afford to squeeze a lover dry, then discard him and go on to the next. But I assumed that Wang refused to let himself be thrown away like a chewed-out piece of sugar cane, and that he made a nuisance of himself. That she fled from the capital and came to Poo-yang in order to start her game all over again. For it’s well known that many wealthy merchants are living here in this district. I assumed that Wang had traced her here and had forced her to let him visit her regularly, threatening to expose her callous racket if she refused. Finally, that after she had caught my foolish colleague Lo, Wang began to blackmail her, and that therefore she had killed him.’ He sighed, then added: ‘We now know that it was quite different. Wang sacrificed everything he had for her, and even the pittance he received as tutor he spent on orchids for her. He was quite content to be allowed to see and talk to her every week, frustrating and humiliating as those few hours were. Sometimes, Hoong, a man’s folly is engendered by such a deep and reckless passion that it lends him a kind of pathetic grandeur.’ Sergeant Hoong pensively pulled at his ragged grey moustache. After a while he asked, ‘There are a great many courtesans here in Poo-yang. How did Your Honour know that Wang’s mistress must belong to the house of Mrs Kwang? And why did it have to be his mistress who murdered him and not, for instance, another jealous lover?’

  ‘Wang used to go there on foot. Since he was a cripple, this proved that she must live near to the guildmaster’s house, and that led us to Mrs Kwang’s establishment. I asked Mrs Kwang what courtesan had been recently bought out, because such an occurrence supplied the most plausible motive for the murder, namely that the courtesan had to get rid of an embarrassing former lover. Well, we know that Wang was indeed embarrassing her, but not by threatening to blackmail her or by any other wicked scheme. It was just his dog-like devotion that made her hate and despise him. As to the other possibilities you just mentioned, I had of course also reckoned with those. But if the murderer had been a man, he would have carried the body away to some distant spot, and he would also have been more thorough in his attempts at concealing his victim’s identity. The fact that the attempt was confined to dressing the victim in a tattered beggar’s gown, loosening his top-knot and mussing up his hair, pointed to a woman having done the deed. Women know that a different dress and hair-do can completely alter their own appearance. Miss Liang applied this method to a man-and that was a bad mistake.’

  Judge Dee took a sip from the cup the sergeant had refilled for him, then resumed, ‘As a matter of course it could also have been an elaborate scheme to inculpate Miss Liang. But I considered that a remote possibility. Miss Liang herself was our best chance. When the headman informed me that the dead beggar had been found at the back of her house, I knew that my theory must be correct. However, when we had gone inside I saw that she was a rather small and frail woman, who could never have bashed in the head of her tall victim. Therefore I at once looked around for some death-trap, and found it in the potted orchids on the high shelf, where the wilted plant supplied the final clue. She must have climbed up the ladder, probably asking Wang to steady it for her. Then she made some remark or other that made him turn his head, and smashed the pot down on his skull. These and other details we’ll learn tomorrow when I question Miss Liang in the tribunal. Now as regards the role played by Mrs Kwang, I don’t think she did more than help Miss Liang to concoct the scheme of getting the fictitious redemption fee out of Lo. Our charming hostess draws the line at murder; hers is a high-class establishment, remember!’

  Sergeant Hoong nodded. ‘Your Honour has not only uncovered a cruel murder, but at the same time saved Magistrate Lo from an alliance with a determined and evil woman!’

  Judge Dee smiled faintly. ‘Next time I meet Lo,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell him about this case-without mentioning, of course, that I know it was he who patronized Miss Liang. My gay friend must have been visiting my district incognito! This case will teach him a lesson-I hope!’

  Hoong discreetly refrained from commenting further on one of his master’s colleagues. He remarked with a satisfied smile: ‘So now all the points of this curious case have been cleared up!’

  Judge Dee took a long draught from his tea. As he set the cup down he shook his head and said unhappily: ‘No, Hoong. Not all the points.’

  He thought he might as well tell the sergeant now about the ghostly apparition of the dead beggar, without which this murder would have been dismissed as an ordinary accident. But just as he was about to speak, his eldest son came rushing inside. Seeing his father’s angry look, the boy said with a quick bow: ‘Mother said we might take that nice lantern to our bedroom, sir!’

  As his father nodded, the small fellow pushed an armchair up to one of the pillars. He climbed on the high backrest, reached up and unhooked the large lantern of painted silk hanging down from the eaves. He jumped down, lit the candle inside with his tinderbox, and held up the lantern for his father to see.

  ‘It took Big Sister and me two days to make this, sir!’ he said proudly. ‘Therefore we didn’t want Ah-kuei to spoil it. We like the Immortal Lee, he is such a pathetic, ugly old fellow!’

  Pointing at the figure the children had painted on the lantern, the judge asked: ‘Do you know his story?’ When the boy shook his head, his father continued: ‘Many, many years ago Lee was a very handsome young alchemist who had read all books and mastered all magic arts. He could detach his soul from his body and then float at will in the clouds, leaving his empty body behind, to resume it when he came down to earth again. One day, however, when Lee had carelessly left his body lying in a field, some farmers came upon it. They thought it was an abandoned corpse, and burned it. So when Lee came down, he found his own beautiful body gone. In despair he had to enter the corpse of a poor old crippled beggar which happened to be lying by the roadside, and Lee had to keep that ugly shape for ever. Although later he found the Elixir of Life, he could never undo that one mistake, and it was in that form that he entered the ranks of the Eight Immortals: Lee with the Crutch, the Immortal Beggar.’

  The boy put the lantern down. ‘I don’t like him anymore!’ he said with disdain. ‘I’ll tell Big Sister that Lee was a fool who only got what he deserved!’

  He knelt down, wished his father and Hoong good night, and scurried away.

  Judge Dee looked after him with an indulgent smile. He took up the lantern to blow out the candle inside. But suddenly he checked himself. He stared at the tall
figure of the Immortal Beggar projected on the plaster wall. Then he tentatively turned the lantern round, as it would turn in the draught. He saw the ghostly shadow of the crippled old man move slowly along the wall, then disappear into the garden.

  With a deep sigh the judge blew the candle out and put the lantern back on the floor. He said gravely to Sergeant Hoong, ‘You were right after all, Hoong! All our doubts are solved- at least those about the mortal beggar. He was a fool. As to the Immortal Beggar-I am not too sure.’ He rose and added with a wan smile, ‘If we measure our knowledge not by what we know but by what we don’t, we are just ignorant fools, Hoong, all of us! Let’s go now and join my ladies.’

  6 The Wrong Sword

  This case also occurred in Poo-yang. As readers of The Chinese Bell Murders will remember, Poo-yang was bordered on one side by the Chin-hwa district, where Magistrate Lo held sway, and on the other by the district of Woo-yee, administered by the austere Magistrate Pan. The murder described in the present story happened in Judge Dee’s absence; he had gone to Woo-yee to discuss with his colleague Pan a case involving both districts. The judge had set out from Poo-yang three days previously, taking with him Sergeant Hoong and Tao Gan, and leaving Ma Joong and Chiao Tai in charge of the tribunal. The three days had passed uneventfully for his two lieutenants; it was only on the last day, on the very evening that Judge Dee was expected back, that things suddenly began to happen.

  ‘You pay for the fourth dozen stuffed crabs!’ Ma Joong told Chiao Tai with satisfaction as he put the dice back into the box.

  ‘They were worth it,’ said Chiao Tai, smacking his lips. He took his wine beaker and emptied it in one draught.

  Judge Dee’s two burly lieutenants were sitting at a small table near the window, on the second floor of the Kingfisher Restaurant, one of their favourite haunts. Situated on the water-way that crosses the city of Poo-yang from north to south, its second-floor window offered a splendid view of the evening sun, setting beyond the western city wall.

  The sounds of boisterous applause came up from the street below. Ma Joong poked his head out of the window and looked down at the crowd that had assembled on the river bank.

  ‘It’s that troupe of travelling actors which came here four days ago,’ he remarked. ‘In the afternoon they perform acrobatics in the street, at night they stage historical plays.’

  ‘I know,’ Chiao Tai said. ‘The rice-dealer Lau helped them rent the yard of the old Taoist temple for setting up their stage. Lau came to the tribunal the other day for the permit. The leader of the troupe was with him-decent-looking fellow, Bao his name is. The troupe consists of his wife, his daughter and his son.’ He refilled his beaker and added: ‘I had thought of strolling over to the temple; I like a good play with lots of sword-fencing. But since our judge is away and we’re responsible for everything, I don’t like to leave the tribunal for long.’

  ‘Well, here we have a grandstand seat for their acrobatic turns at least,’ Ma Joong said contentedly. He turned his chair round to the window and put his folded arms on the sill. Chiao Tai followed his example.

  In the street below a square reed mat had been spread out, surrounded by a dense crowd of spectators. A small boy of about eight was turning somersaults there with surprising agility. Two other actors, a tall lean man and a sturdy woman stood on the left and right of the mat with folded arms, and a young girl was squatting by the side of a bamboo box, evidently containing their paraphernalia. On top of the box was a low wooden rack; two long, shining swords were laid across it, one above the other. All four actors wore black jackets and wide trousers; red sashes were wound tightly round their waists, and red scarves round their heads. An old man dressed in a shabby blue gown was sitting on a tabouret close by, lustily beating the drum he held between his bony knees.

  ‘Wish I could see that girl’s face,’ Ma Joong said wistfully. ‘Look, Lau is there too; he seems to be in trouble!’

  He pointed down at a neatly dressed, middle-aged man wearing a black gauze cap, who was standing behind the bamboo box. He was quarrelling with a huge ruffian whose unruly hair was bound up with a blue rag. He grabbed Lau’s sleeve but Lau pushed him away. The two men paid no attention to the boy who was now walking around the reed mat on his hands, balancing a wine jar on the soles of his feet.

  ‘I have never seen that tall rogue before,’ Chiao Tai remarked. ‘Must be from outside the city.’

  ‘Now we’ll get a good view of the wenches!’ Ma Joong said with a grin.

  The boy had finished. The leader of the troupe stood in the centre of the mat, legs apart and knees slightly bent. The sturdy woman placed her right foot on his knee, then with one lithe movement climbed up onto his shoulders. At a shout from the man, the girl climbed up too, put one foot on the man’s left shoulder, grabbed the woman’s arm with one hand, and stretched out her other arm and leg. At almost the same time the boy followed her example and balanced himself on the man’s right shoulder. As the human pyramid stood there precariously, the greybeard in the faded gown beat a frantic roll on his drum. The crowd burst out in loud shouts of approval.

  The faces of the boy, the woman and the girl were only ten feet or so from Ma Joong and Chiao Tai. The latter whispered with enthusiasm: ‘Look at the woman’s splendid figure! Nice friendly face too!’

  ‘I prefer the girl!’ Ma Joong said eagerly.

  ‘Much too young! The woman is about thirty, just right. Knows what’s what!’

  The drummer stopped; the woman and her two children jumped down from Bao’s shoulders. All four actors made a graceful bow, then the girl went round among the spectators collecting coppers in a wooden bowl. Ma Joong pulled a string of cash from his sleeve and threw it down at her. She caught it expertly and rewarded him with a smile.

  ‘That’s literally throwing money away!’ Chiao Tai remarked dryly.

  ‘Call it an investment in a promising project!’ Ma Joong countered with a smug grin. ‘What’s next?’

  The boy was standing in the centre of the reed mat. He put his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. As the greybeard started to beat his drum, Bao bared his right arm, grabbed the sword lying on top of the rack, and with a movement quick as lightning plunged it deep into the boy’s breast. Blood spurted out; the boy staggered backwards as his father pulled the sword out again. There were horrified cries from the crowd.

  ‘I have seen that trick before,’ Ma Joong said. ‘Heaven knows how they do it! The sword looks genuine enough.’ He turned away from the window and took his wine beaker.

  The agonized cry of a woman rose above the confused murmur of voices. Chiao Tai, who had been looking down intently, suddenly jumped up. He snapped: ‘That was no trick, brother! It was plain murder! Come along!’

  The two men rushed down the stairs and ran outside. They elbowed their way through the excited crowd to the edge of the reed mat. The boy was lying on his back, his breast a mass of blood. His mother was kneeling by his side, sobbing convulsively as she stroked the small, still face. Bao and his daughter were standing there stock still, staring down with pale faces at the pitiful dead body. Bao still held the bloodstained sword.

  Ma Joong wrenched it from his hand and asked angrily: ‘Why did you do that?’

  The actor woke from his stupor. Giving Ma Joong a dazed look, he stammered: ‘It was the wrong sword!’

  ‘I can explain, Mr Ma!’ the rice-dealer Lau spoke up. ‘It was an accident!’

  A squat man came forward; it was the warden of the west quarter. Chiao Tai ordered him to roll the dead body in the reed mat and have it brought to the tribunal for examination by the coroner. As the warden gently made the mother rise, Chiao Tai said to Ma Joong, ‘Let’s take these people up to the dining-room, and try to get this straight!’

  Ma Joong nodded. Taking the sword under his arm, he said to the rice-dealer, ‘You come too, Mr Lau. And let the greybeard bring the box and that other sword along.’

  He looked for the tall ruffian who had accosted Lau
, but the fellow was nowhere to be seen.

  Up on the second floor of the Kingfisher Restaurant Ma Joong told Bao, the two crying women and the old drummer to sit down at a corner table. He poured them wine from the jar he and Chiao Tai had been drinking from. He hoped that the strong liquor would help them get over the shock. Then he turned to the rice-dealer and ordered him to explain. He knew that the theatre was Lau’s hobby, that he attended all shows given by travelling actors. His regular face with the short black moustache and goatee was pale and drawn. He adjusted his black gauze cap, then began diffidently:

  ‘As you may know, Mr Ma, this man Bao is the leader of the troupe, a fine actor and acrobat.’ He paused, passed his hand over his face, then took the second sword which the old drummer had laid on the table. ‘You may have seen these trick-swords,’ he continued. ‘The blade is hollow, and filled with pig’s blood. It has a false point a couple of inches long, which slides back into the blade if the sword is pushed against something. Thus it appears as if the point penetrates deeply, the illusion being completed by the pig’s blood spurting out. When the sword is pulled out, the point resumes its original position, being pushed out again by a rattan spiral hidden inside. You can see it for yourself!’

  Ma Joong took the sword from him. He noticed a thin groove round it, a few inches below the blunt point. He turned round and pressed it against the wooden floor. The point slid into the blade, red blood spurted out. Mrs Bao started to scream. Her husband quickly put his arm round her shoulders. The girl remained sitting, still as a stone figure. The greybeard muttered angrily, pulling at his ragged beard.

  ‘That wasn’t too clever, brother!’ Chiao Tai snapped.

  ‘Had to verify it, didn’t I?’ Ma Joong said contritely. He took the real sword in his other hand, and balanced the two weapons carefully. ‘These two swords are about the same weight,’ he muttered. ‘And they look exactly alike. Dangerous!’