Dragon Bones (13 page)

David knew that if anyone was going to make the first move, it had to be Hulan. Still, he was completely unprepared that it happened so soon or so effortlessly. Hulan didn’t say a word as she came toward him. She gently put her hands on his cheeks and brought his face down to hers. Her lips were soft and yielding. She pulled back, and he looked into her eyes. She couldn’t hide what was in them from him, and he realized that all this was happening just a little too easily. But as soon as she undid the first button on his shirt, he reached for her as though it had been years and not months since the last time they had made love. He wanted to believe—if only for the time that they were here in the Three Gorges—that they still could have a life together.

Their wet clothes clung tenaciously to their skin, but every inch revealed was reclaimed and reconquered. They didn’t hurry as they touched and tasted each other. For these minutes they forgot everything except the needs of the flesh. When he finally entered her, she moaned in pleasure as she lifted her hips to meet him. They moved together across tides of sensation and emotion, until neither of them could endure another moment.
This
was why he’d wanted to get her out of Beijing, away from the MPS, away from their own bed, away from memories of Chaowen.

By the time they were sated, they were both as damp as when they’d walked into the room. The sheets lay in a rumpled pile at the foot of the bed. The air from the overhead fan slowly cooled their sweaty bodies. They had so much to talk about. Even if this encounter had been staged by Zai, even if Hulan had forced herself in the early moments, couldn’t this be a new beginning? But David couldn’t and wouldn’t push Hulan. She wasn’t yet willing to reveal her mind’s deepest intimacies, but she was ready to talk about the case that had brought them here. For David, it was a start, and his heart welled with cautious happiness.

“How can I prove Brian was murdered?” She rolled onto her side and put a hand on David’s chest. “By the time I saw his body, whatever evidence might have been there had long washed away.”

“Witnesses—”

“What witnesses? If someone saw Brian getting tossed in the river, don’t you think it would have been reported?”

“People don’t always want to come forward—”

“Maybe in America, but this is China, David. ‘Leniency to those who confess….’”

“A witness is not a criminal who has to confess.”

“Of course not, but the idea could apply to witnesses, too, in terms of the common good for society.”

“What about the day workers?” he asked.

“Pretty convenient that their families have been moved,” she responded. “On the other hand, it’s common knowledge that the poorest of the poor are being sent to faraway lands. But the Wus are still here, and we should talk to them.”

Finding out what had happened to the site workers was David’s assignment, but he and Hulan had been sent down here together. It was only natural that lines would blur.

“There’s always circumstantial evidence,” he offered.

“Yes, lawyers love that, but what circumstantial evidence do you see?”

“The contractor and the police captain are brothers-in-law.”

“That’s not circumstantial! That’s dead-on proof of corruption as far as I’m concerned, but we’re not here to investigate local corruption.”

“What do you make of Lily?”

“The others don’t like her, but I don’t see her as a murderer. Do you?”

“No,” David said, then after a beat added, “I find it interesting what people
don’t
talk about. We’re at a famous Ba site, but have you heard anyone talk about the Ba?”

“Only in the context of the Four Mysteries.”

“Right. These people are choosing to spend all of their waking hours in difficult living conditions absolutely removed from the rest of the world because, we must assume, they’re passionate about the Ba, but the way they were discussed was in the philosophical context of those four archaeological mysteries. No one seemed particularly concerned about the artifacts missing from the site.”

“They talked about the
ruyi.
”

“Not exactly. Everyone went on about Miller’s
ruyi
collection. Only Dr. Ma mentioned that a
ruyi
was missing and that it didn’t have much value. I mean, it sounded like a mushroom on a stick. What’s the value in that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it fills a hole in Miller’s collection.”

“Which is why his daughter is out here?”

As soon as the words were out of David’s mouth, Hulan let her hand trail down his torso. She put her head on his shoulder. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get to her.”

“I just find it hard to believe that a girl like that would want to spend the summer in a place like this.”

“Just because she’s beautiful doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her interests.”

Hulan’s voice had a teasing quality about it, which he hadn’t heard in over a year, and it had an immediate effect on him. She sighed deeply, and her warm breath traveled downward, doing little to relieve his suddenly heightened state.

“You said we were here about Brian, and yet we heard almost nothing about him,” David said, trying to change the subject.

“He was one of Miller’s protégés.”

“Yes, we learned that, and I have to tell you I’m concerned about Stuart Miller,” David said.

“Because he’s a businessman?”

“He’s not just
any
businessman, Hulan. He’s Miller Enterprises!”

She pulled away and got up. She picked the wet clothes up off the floor and draped them over a couple of chairs. He watched as she opened her bag, pulled out a dress, shook it loose, and put it on a hanger. She was naked and unabashed as she went about her mundane tasks.

“We’ll stay awhile longer,” she said, “talk to Lily and the Wus, and see if one of those pieces of circumstantial evidence shifts and becomes tangible.” She turned to him again, put a hand on her hip, and asked, “Do you think they have hot water in this place?”

His voice was gruff as he said, “Come here.”

A little after seven, David and Hulan emerged from their room. The rain still came down in sheets, and they strolled under the covered corridors that edged the linked courtyards back toward the main entrance. The restaurant was in the largest pavilion in the compound. It had a veranda—dotted with potted plants and wicker furniture—which overlooked a lotus pond. Faded vermilion brocade covered the restaurant’s walls. The tables and chairs dated from the Ming Dynasty, and had all the scuffs and dings of four hundred years of use. David and Hulan sat at a table for two. Little dishes of lotus root, string beans with chilies, and salted cashews were already set out as appetizers.

Only two other tables in the vast room were occupied, but instead of clustering guests together, each party had been isolated, which was just fine with David. He’d done his work for the day and didn’t want to make small talk either with Lily, who sat alone reading a book, or with the archaeological team—minus the Millers—who’d gathered at a large round table. With them was a young woman with cropped hair whom David didn’t recognize from the dig. Aside from the occasional bouts of drunken laughter from that table, the only sound came from the comforting sough of rain through the stand of bamboo outside the window. Beijing’s horns, smog, and crowded streets seemed very far away.

David took a quick look at the English menu, then set it aside. He’d let Hulan read the Chinese menu and question the waitress about local specialties. He felt incredibly and surprisingly happy. Hulan appeared peaceful and relaxed. She should be, he thought, his mouth spreading into an unselfconscious grin. Her inhibitions, reserve, walls, or whatever you wanted to call them had fallen from her this afternoon in layers. He’d done that for her—again and again.

The young woman at the archaeologists’ table got up and crossed over to David and Hulan. She wore a sleeveless black top and trim khaki pants. Her arms were strong and tan, and she was pretty in an athletic sort of way.

“They tell me you’ve come to look into my brother’s death,” she said to Hulan. “My name is Angela McCarthy. May I talk to you for a minute?” Without waiting for an answer, Angela pulled over a chair and sat down. “I’d like to know what you can tell me about Brian.”

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Hulan answered. She glanced at David. This was not the way either of them had planned on spending the evening.

Angela bit her bottom lip and confided, “I knew something was wrong when I didn’t hear from my brother.” She smiled sadly and explained. “Our parents died in a car accident ten years ago. Because of that we had a rule that we had to make contact every two days. We kept in touch on the Internet. He was able to send or receive e-mail at least once a day. Anyway, when I heard he’d disappeared, I suspected the worst and decided to come here.” Her eyes reddened as she fought back tears. “Our family has not been lucky.”

The waitress arrived with notepad in hand. Hulan said a few words in Chinese, but when the waitress turned away, Angela said, “Oh, please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

She made a move to leave, but David grabbed her wrist. “Stay.” Then, “Hulan, why don’t you go ahead and order? Angela, have you eaten?”

She had, but she readily agreed to have a glass of wine. Hulan placed the order, and the waitress left. Hulan said, “I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here when your brother’s still in Beijing.”

Angela looked back and forth between David and Hulan despondently. “I need to know about Brian.”

“We may never know exactly what happened,” Hulan said, not without some sympathy in her voice. “You should prepare yourself for that.”

“Dr. Ma already told me what happened to my brother. He fell in the river and drowned. There are risks in everything we do. I
know
that. My brother knew that too. There’s nothing I can do about how he died, and a few more days in Beijing won’t hurt him now. But I
need
to understand his last days. How did he spend them? Who did he talk to? What was he interested in?”

“For what purpose?”

Hulan was so matter-of-fact in her question that Angela answered in the same pragmatic way. “Do you know what it means to lose someone?”

Hulan kept her face expressionless, but David knew the impact the question would have on her, for he felt it too.

Angela didn’t wait for a response. “Grief counselors would probably say I’m looking for closure. If I can piece together….”

At last Angela’s toughness cracked and the tears flowed.

The waitress returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. By the time the wine was poured, Angela had regained her composure. David suggested she tell them about her brother. As she spoke, he saw in her face that same forlorn look of grief that he’d seen so many times this past year when he’d looked in the mirror or at Hulan.

“Brian always loved dirt,” she began. “I’m two years older, but some of my earliest memories were when we were—gosh, I must have been about four, so he would have been two. He’d play in the dirt all day if our mother let him. I know it sounds hokey, but
dirt
was one of his first words. He was entranced by it. So I guess it was only natural that he’d end up digging in it for a career.”

She faltered again, and David said, “I understand you’re from Washington.”

“We grew up in Seattle. We were both doing graduate work at the University of Washington, but these last couple of years we hadn’t seen much of each other. I’ve been out in the field myself working on my dissertation. He was over here last summer as a Miller fellow. This year he was going to stay until October, then come home and write his master’s thesis.”

“He must have been smart,” David said.

“He was book smart.” Angela did nothing to hide the sisterly impatience in her voice. “But he was dumber than a toad’s butt when it came to just about everything else.”

David restrained himself from looking in Hulan’s direction.

“He was ambitious too,” Angela continued, still irritated. “He wanted a lot more than a Ph.D. and tenure. Out here he made great new contacts, but what does he do? He fucks them.”

“He couldn’t or wouldn’t follow through?” David tried to clarify.

“No, I mean he
fucked
them.” Angela looked at each of them, saw their confusion, and spelled it out. “Sex. Women. Every time he had an opportunity put in front of him, he literally screwed it up. He gets the Miller Fellowship, then sleeps with the daughter. He gets some freelance work with Cosgrove’s, then sleeps with the woman who hired him. You’ve met Lily Sinclair, haven’t you? She’s sitting over there.”

Although it was a large room, Lily heard her name and looked up. When Angela smiled and lifted a couple of fingers in salutation, Lily put her book down, got up, and began walking toward them.

“She’s really quite nice,” Angela said under her breath. “We’ve talked a lot since I got here. I can see why my brother liked her.”

When Lily reached the table, Angela said, “I’ve just been telling them about you and Brian and what a dumb ass he was….”

Just then the waitress arrived with dinner. Hulan had ordered well, selecting dishes that utilized local ingredients—pan-fried dumplings in hot chili oil, a river fish steamed with ginger and scallions, and braised pork with pickled mustard tuber. Neither Lily nor Angela made any move to leave.

“Are you sure you won’t join us?” Hulan asked. “I can order more.”

Both women said they’d eaten already.

“Well, then, let’s talk.” Hulan asked the waitress to bring another wineglass. Lily, sensing David and Hulan’s hesitation, encouraged them to eat. It was all terribly rude by Chinese mores, but Hulan didn’t waver for a second and with her chopsticks began pulling the delicate flesh from the bones of the fish.

“So now you know about Brian and me,” Lily said. Her English accent made it seem more sophisticated than it probably was. “I didn’t bring it up before. How could I in front of the others?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “The men. They’re real gossips, and you can imagine what it would mean if it got out that I’d slept with Brian. They’d think
they’d
have a chance.”