Death In Shanghai (16 page)

The preacher put on a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. He squinted through them for a long time. ‘It looks like Henry but his hair is longer and it’s dyed blonde.’

‘Are you sure?’

The preacher glanced at the photograph again. ‘Yes, it’s Henry. I knew him well.’

‘You used the past tense?’

The preacher slowly took the wire-rimmed glasses off and placed them on the table next to the money. ‘What’s all this about, Inspector…?’

‘Danilov.’

‘Inspector…Danilov. Henry is no longer a part of this church. He has been disowned.’

‘Disowned?’

‘He broke the covenant he had with the Redeemer, cavorting in an unseemly manner. Dancing.’ The preacher’s voice rose, once again he seemed to be on stage, railing against the brazen iniquities and blasphemy of Shanghai. ‘He betrayed the trust we placed in him, falling prey to the temptations of Mammon. This city offers so many temptations for the young and innocent. Not all can resist them. Henry was one of those who fell by the wayside.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He stole, Inspector. From this church. From these people. From me. He stole to buy the goods of Mammon. To live the life of an unbeliever. So, he was cast out.’ The preacher’s fist came crashing down on the desk. The piles of coins collapsed like the tower of Babel.

‘When did all this happen?’

The preacher calmed himself. ‘Six months ago, last summer. Henry left our home one day and never came back. We found the money missing from the collection box after he had gone.’

‘Did you report the theft to the police?’

Once more the voice boomed out. ‘We have no truck with the agents of the devil, sir. The only laws we recognise are those of God himself.’

There was a moment of silence. The preacher calmed himself again and began to re-stack the coins in neat piles.

‘Did Henry have a tattoo on his wrist?’

‘All the children of the Redeemer bear the sign of the covenant. It’s what binds them to the Lord. A mark so that they can be recognised on the day of judgement when they stand before him, asking for judgement on their life. Asking if they have obeyed his laws.’

He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and showed them another tattoo on the inside of his wrist. ‘The word is on their skin, engraved there for the Lord to see.’

‘How long was Henry with your church, Dr Renfrew?’

‘Henry came to us when he was young, ten years old, placed in our care to teach him the righteous path of the Lord. His parents had seen the marks of a sinner on him.’ The preacher sighed. ‘We tried to cleanse him, to lead him to see the light, to redeem his everlasting soul.’

Danilov put his hat back on his head. ‘Thank you, Dr Renfrew, for your time and your words. One last question, you talked of judgement in your sermon?’

‘The day of judgement is upon us, Inspector. As we sit here, we are being judged, our sins examined and weighed. Our wickedness exposed to the light of the Redeemer. We will face his wrath, Inspector. Heed my words, we will all face his wrath.’

***

‘Can I help you, sir?’ Sergeant Wolfe leaned over his desk. The sergeant had spotted the well-dressed, confident man in the crowd of hawkers, rickshaw pullers, pimps, thieves and conmen who surrounded his desk.

‘I would like to speak to Chief Inspector Boyle.’

The sergeant was automatically deferential. ‘And who shall I say it is, sir?’

‘Richard Ayres.’

‘Any relation to Councillor Ayres, sir?’

‘He’s my father.’

The sergeant stood up. ‘I’ll let him know you’re here, sir.’ He picked up the phone and rang through to the Chief Inspector. The answer came back quickly. ‘Would you come this way, sir?’ He led Richard behind the desk, through a double door and into the anteroom of Boyle’s office.

Boyle was waiting outside his door to greet him. ‘Good morning, Richard, good to see you again. How’s your father?’

‘Fine, Chief Inspector, working hard as usual.’

Boyle stepped back and allowed Richard to enter his office first. He indicated a seat in front of his desk. He opened a cigar box and offered Richard a Havana. Richard shook his head.

‘What can I do for you?’

‘It’s rather delicate.’ He paused for a moment before continuing. ‘It’s my girlfriend, my fiancée actually.’

‘I didn’t know you were engaged. Congratulations.’

‘I’m not. We’re not. That’s to say, we were about to get engaged when she disappeared.’

‘Disappeared?’

‘Two nights ago. She didn’t turn up at the theatre. She’s an actress, you see.’

Boyle scratched his bald head. ‘I do see. Have you talked to her friends?’

‘Of course, they think she’s just gone off for a while.’

‘Well, she is an actress, Richard. They can be a mite…’ Boyle searched for the right word ‘…flighty.’

Richard’s hackles went up. ‘Elsie’s not “flighty”. She would have told me if she were going off somewhere.’

Boyle leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands in front of his stomach. The girl’s just gone off with another man that’s all. But this is Councillor Ayres’ son, he thought. ‘What would you like us to do?’ he said in a soothing voice.

‘Find her, of course. Perhaps, she’s been abducted, shanghaied.’

Boyle laughed. ‘That sort of thing only happens in trashy novels, not here in Shanghai and not on my watch. Do you have a photograph of her that I can circulate?’

‘We took this last week at the Astor.’ He showed the picture of himself and Elsie dancing to the band.

As soon as he saw the photograph, Boyle’s face went pale as if it had been illuminated by a flashbulb. ‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment.’ He got up and went outside.

‘Get Danilov immediately.’

‘I’ll see if he’s back, sir.’

Boyle went back into his office. The calm, peaceful Chief Inspector had been replaced by a nervous, stammering man. ‘Just a minute, Richard, Inspector Danilov will join us. Ah, speak of the devil.’

Danilov appeared in the doorway, his hat still in his hands. ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

‘Yes, Danilov. This is Richard Ayres, he’s inquiring about his missing fiancée.’ Boyle handed the photograph to Danilov.

He took one look at it. ‘When was the last time you saw your fiancée, Mr…?’

‘Ayres. Richard Ayres.’

‘The son of Councillor Ayres,’ interrupted Boyle.

Danilov ignored him. ‘When did you last see her?’

Boyle laughed. ‘Our Inspector Danilov is known for his brusque manner, aren’t you, Danilov?’

Richard spoke directly to the Inspector. ‘Two days ago. Her name is Elsie Everett. We were at the Astor together. She left around 5.30 pm. Something about having a rehearsal.’

‘You haven’t seen her since?’

‘No. I checked at the theatre. She didn’t go there that night. Her flatmate hasn’t seen her either. She’s just vanished.’

Danilov took out a picture of the girl in the park from inside his jacket. Richard looked at it. ‘Yes, that’s Elsie.’ Then he stared at it more closely. ‘But she doesn’t have that mark on her face. And her eyes, they are…’

It was Danilov who spoke first. ‘I’m afraid to tell you, Mr Ayres, we found Miss Everett in the public garden on the Bund yesterday evening. She had been murdered.’

Danilov watched the look on Richard’s face. This was the moment of truth. Very few people could fake surprise well. Most of them overacted it, making all the emotions too big, too obvious.

Richard just stared straight ahead. ‘But, she can’t …she was just…,’ he stammered.

Danilov watched him. Surprise followed by disbelief. Classic reactions, they should be completed by acceptance and sorrow, usually tinged with a little self-pity.

‘She was murdered some time on the morning of February 23rd, about twelve hours after you last saw her.’

‘Do you have to be so blunt, Danilov?’ Boyle touched the shoulder of Richard’s jacket.

Richard buried his head in his hands. ‘My poor Elsie, what are we going to do?’ He quickly stifled his sobs, gaining control of himself.

Danilov just sat there, watching.

‘We were going to be married. I’d bought her the ring and everything.’ He looked up as if a thought has suddenly occurred to him. ‘What am I going to do with it?’

Danilov leant forward. ‘Where were you on the evening of the 22nd and the day of the 23rd, Mr Ayres?’

‘Now, look here Danilov…’

Danilov held up his hand. The Chief Inspector stopped speaking.

‘Where were you, Mr Ayres?’

Richard glanced up into the eyes of the Inspector staring straight at him. ‘I was…I was at Ciro’s with friends on the evening of the 22nd. Then on the 23rd I went to see Elsie at the theatre and her home, then I went to the office not getting back until the early evening.’

‘Someone can confirm this?’

Richard nodded. ‘My friends at Ciro’s. And the theatre director met me.’

‘Good,’ said Inspector Danilov. ‘Now, this may be painful, but I need you to tell us everything you know about Miss Everett.’

Richard nodded.

Danilov raised his voice. ‘Miss Cavendish, could you bring us some tea?’ he shouted through the closed door, knowing the secretary would be listening.

***

He watched the preacher leaving Jingling Church, the black bag clutched to his chest, like a virgin guarding her chastity. The man
’
s eyes darted right and left, wary of the snatch thieves that preyed upon the citizens of Shanghai.

He followed him. Li Min was behind in the car, idling the motor, letting it creep forward slowly.

The hunter following its prey.

The preacher turned left and then first right. He passed a one-legged blind beggar leaning on his crutches on the street corner. The beggar had his hand out, murmuring
‘
Xie Xie. Xie Xie
’
every five seconds although nobody had put any money in his tin.

The preacher just ignored the outstretched hand, entering a small bank on the street. The Nanking Commercial Bank. The preacher went up to one of the counters and slowly emptied all the coins and notes in front of the cashier, counting every one as he did so.

Patiently, the cashier re-counted it all, writing the total in a book. A smile crossed the man
’
s face as he read the amount.

The preacher came out of the bank, still reading the figures in his book, adding them up in his head.

He was waiting.

The street was empty, with only the blind beggar occupying his place on the corner.

He raced in to stand behind the preacher, thrusting the hessian bag over the man
’
s head. Immediately, the preacher started to struggle, shouting out in his deep Ulster voice.

He wrapped his arms around the man, ignoring the muffled shouts, and pushed him to the edge of the pavement. Li Min accelerated the car and braked heavily with a loud squeal.

Must get those brakes checked soon.

A door opened and, a few moments later, Li Min clamped a cloth soaked in chloroform over the hessian bag where the preacher
’
s mouth should be.

The preacher struggled for ten seconds before his body went limp. Li Min opened the boot of the car and the heavy body was tumbled in the back.

The preacher lay there, faint breathing coming from inside the bag. Luckily, it wasn
’
t far to the courtroom.

Li Min ran round to the driver
’
s seat and started the engine.

He closed the boot, adjusted his necktie and walked round to the rear of the car. He scanned the street. Still empty except for the blind beggar with his hand held out.

But the beggar was looking straight at him, no longer mouthing the words
‘
Xie Xie, Xie Xie
’.
The man wasn’t blind, just another faker who inhabited the streets of Shanghai.

He was tempted to kill him, but it was not part of the plan. The preacher was the plan.

He climbed into the rear seat. Li Min accelerated away from the kerb. As they drove past the blind beggar, the man stared at them.

He would have to get rid of the car now. Just to be on the safe side.

It was time to concentrate. Time to try the preacher for his sins.

Yama was needed again.

***

‘I believe we’re dealing with a serial killer, sir.’

‘Come on, Danilov, this isn’t Victorian London.’

‘No, it’s modern-day Shanghai. But we are still dealing with a serial killer.’ Danilov sighed. ‘Four people have been murdered in the last nine days.’

‘There is no need to take that tone with me, Danilov.’

Danilov ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but unless we act quickly this man will kill again and again.’

‘You were too harsh on young Richard Ayres. He is the son of Councillor Ayres, you know.’

Danilov closed his eyes and forced himself to take two deep breaths. ‘He is also the prime suspect in a murder inquiry. He was the last person to see the victim alive. He has no alibi for her time of death. And he had the opportunity to kill her.’

Boyle smiled. ‘You are forgetting motive, Danilov. What’s his motive, tell me that, hey?’

Danilov looked down at his hands. The fingers of his right hand were beating a tattoo on his leg. ‘I don’t know, sir. If I knew what the motive for the murders was, I would be closer to catching the killer.’

There was silence between the two of them. The sort of silence that underlined a temporary truce in a war of words.

Boyle spoke first. ‘OK. Let’s say there is a “serial killer” on the streets of Shanghai. There have been four victims now and all seem to have Chinese characters carved into their bodies. It seems to suggest, and I emphasise “seems”, Danilov, that the same man committed all four crimes. What will he do next?’

‘That’s pretty obvious, sir.’

Boyle waited for the answer.

‘He will kill again.’

‘You are certain of that?’

‘Yes, sir. All my experience tells me this man, and it is a man, will kill again. Brutally. Viciously. And without mercy.’