A Spoonful of Murder

  Mr Svensson brought Mrs Svensson with him, and Mrs Svensson brought her sunny smile and her soft purple scent.

  ‘We’ve come to show our support,’ said Mr Svensson, clapping my father on the arm. ‘I’m fearfully sorry about all this. I had to stop Kendra bringing Roald. We have a maid who can look after him and I thought he might not be – well – a good reminder.’

  ‘Probably not,’ said my father shortly.

  ‘Poor Vincent!’ said Mrs Svensson sympathetically. ‘How are you holding up? Is it too awful? I don’t know what I would do – why, it would be the end of the world!’

  ‘It is awful indeed,’ said my father. ‘Yesterday, we received demands from the kidnappers. I hope that we will be able to hand the money over successfully, and have Teddy back with us by the end of the week.’

  ‘What good news!’ cried Mrs Svensson. ‘I hope you can find the money? I mean, of course you can, a man like you – and I’m sure too that you’ll be able to make back the loss. I only wish we could help.’

  ‘About that …’ said Mr Svensson, nodding. ‘Vincent, I know we’ve had disagreements in the past, but now – well – now this has happened, I want to put all that aside. I haven’t much liquidity at the moment, but I want to draw on some of my reserve funds for this.’

  I saw Mrs Svensson look worried. ‘Are you sure, Sven?’ she asked. ‘I mean, poor Vincent, but—’

  ‘At moments like this, one must be a man, Kendra,’ said Mr Svensson magnificently, clapping her on the back. ‘It’ll come right, you’ll see. I’ve asked Vincent for money enough times, after all!’

  But my father shook his head. ‘No, Sven,’ he said. ‘I thank you, but no. This is something I must do on my own. I can’t ask this of you.’

  ‘Oh, June!’ said Mrs Svensson suddenly, looking past me. ‘There you are! I didn’t see you—’

  We all turned and saw my mother standing next to the ornamental screen at the other end of the hall. Her face was impassive.

  ‘Mrs Svensson,’ she said, her voice icy. ‘What a surprise.’

  ‘June!’ said my father. ‘June, please take Kendra into the music room for tea. Hazel, Daisy, go with them. I must speak to Sven alone.’

  It was so unfair, I thought. I might be growing up, but all the same, because I was a girl, I was still being left out of the truly important conversations.

  Mrs Svensson smiled sympathetically at my mother, and my mother glared daggers back at her. As Daisy and I followed them, I looked back at Mr Svensson. He was still begging my father to reconsider, waving his hands animatedly, while my father frowned. Was the offer genuine? He did not have much money after all. But – Mr Svensson knew my father. He knew how proud he was. The more he offered, the less likely my father was to say yes. Was he counting on that?

  Daisy nudged me. ‘Don’t be cross, Hazel,’ she whispered. ‘You know as well as I do that half of detecting is listening to idle chat. Mrs Svensson clearly adores gossip in all its forms, and so I am convinced that spending a few minutes in her company will give us at least six fascinating leads to follow.’

  This was true, and quite sensible. But I was worried that Daisy might have another motive. She still thought of my mother as a suspect, and she wanted to watch her.

  So, as I followed her into the music room, I felt strangely afraid.

  11

  My mother sat very upright on a cream silk sofa, glaring at Mrs Svensson as she wandered around the music room, tapping out a few notes on the piano, touching the ornaments on the sideboard and exclaiming at their prettiness. A maid came in and poured out the tea.

  ‘Goodness, this is beautiful!’ Mrs Svensson said, holding up a cloisonné bowl, goldfish chasing each other’s frothy tails in a deep blue pond. ‘You really do have the most lovely things, June.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Svensson,’ said my mother icily. ‘It was very expensive. Do not drop it, if you please. Tea, Hazel?’

  ‘Thank you, Mother,’ I said, ducking my head, and the maid pressed a little cup into my hands, its heat streaming through my fingers, the steam from it curling sweetly around my nose.

  I sipped awkwardly, sitting sideways on the sofa next to my mother. Coldness radiated from her, and even Mrs Svensson’s cheerful glow was dimmed. It was up to Daisy to rescue the situation, and, of course, she did.

  ‘I do so admire your dress, Kendra!’ she cried, and Mrs Svensson beamed gratefully. Soon they were discussing fabric and cut, and somehow they moved on from there to jewellery. Daisy praised Mrs Svensson’s engagement ring, with its flashing blue stone, and then turned to my mother. ‘Your bangle is delightful,’ she said, and my mother thawed an inch or two.

  ‘It’s jade,’ she said. ‘Jewellery is important to a woman. I wish I could make Hazel wear more.’ She took my hand unexpectedly and twisted it around in hers, looping her fingers about my wrist and pinching my fingers. ‘She would have pretty hands if they weren’t so dirty.’

  She meant, of course, the dust from my pencils. I write so much that my hands always seem to be covered in dark marks. I pulled my hands away from her in shame and alarm. My mother doesn’t touch me much, and so, every time she does, it makes my heart jump.

  ‘You ought to take more care of yourself,’ said my mother, flicking my arm with her long, polished nails.

  ‘I do my best to help Hazel, Mrs Wong,’ said Daisy seriously. ‘But she won’t take time to consider important things like hats.’

  I wanted very much to say that it’s no good caring about clothes and hats when I can never look as well in them as other people do – but I saw Daisy narrow her left eye at me in the smallest of winks, and knew she did not mean it. I kept silent.

  ‘I’m sure you must be planning outfits for your Season already, Daisy,’ said Mrs Svensson. ‘Oh, the fun of it! Mine was the happiest time of my life. No cares at all!’

  ‘Oh yes. Being a grown-up sounds simply wonderful,’ said Daisy blissfully.

  ‘I remember when I thought just like you, dear,’ Mrs Svensson went on. ‘But in fact, now that I am one, I feel just like I did when I was a child, only with a dreadful lot of extra things for one to remember – and heaps of bills to pay.’

  ‘Hah!’ said my mother sharply. Mrs Svensson blushed and turned back to the mantelpiece.

  ‘Oh, I shall make being a grown-up blissful,’ said Daisy, seeming not to notice Mrs Svensson’s embarrassment. ‘I shall marry a lord.’

  I grinned, and then covered my mouth with my hand, for I know that marrying a lord is the last thing Daisy would ever consider doing with her life.

  ‘Of course you shall, dear,’ said Mrs Svensson. ‘And you, Hazel – June, you must have ideas for her.’

  ‘Hazel will not marry,’ said my mother coldly.

  I looked at her, shocked. I have always known that my mother expected me to marry, and marry well, which makes me feel odd and uncomfortable. Why had she changed her mind now? Was it because of Teddy? Did I really not matter any more, to either of my parents? Or did she mean that she thought no man would ever want to marry me?

  ‘Well,’ said Mrs Svensson, clearing her throat. ‘I— The world is changing, I suppose. Now, I wonder what our husbands are talking about?’

  ‘Money,’ said my mother. ‘It’s all they ever seem to discuss.’

  ‘Dear Sven is quite set on the idea of helping Mr Wong,’ said Mrs Svensson. ‘I know I oughtn’t to mention it but I really don’t know where he’ll get the money from. We are rather short at present, and there’s Roald to consider. We must look after him, and ourselves!’

  Daisy, despite herself, turned towards Mrs Svensson with interest on her face. My mother saw.

  ‘Hazel, please take Miss Wells away,’ she said to me sternly. ‘This is not suitable conversation for you.’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ I said. ‘Come on, Daisy, let’s go into the garden.’

  12

  I led Daisy not to the front of the house, where the men were still standing, but behind the folding scree
n, into the back hallway, with its wooden stairs reaching up to the first floor and its huge crystal chandelier. To our right was the side entrance, a narrower, darker doorway with two imposing metal pots like sentinels on either side of a tall set of steps.

  Down these we ran, and out onto the gravel drive that surrounded the Big House. In front of us was the rise of the Peak, lush green trees and cool white buildings, and over to the right I could see Victoria Harbour, all its buildings and boats as small as toys. The rain had stopped, but everything was smoking with damp. All the plants around us were still covered in heavy drops that scattered across our shoulders.

  I motioned for Daisy to follow me, and we tiptoed to the right, moving slowly and carefully until we were under the music-room window. It was open just a crack, and I could hear voices, so quiet that they sounded nothing more than ghosts.

  ‘Ohhh!’ whispered Daisy, patting me on the back. ‘Good work, Watson!’

  I beamed at her, and we both listened in.

  ‘… unwise investments,’ Mrs Svensson was saying. ‘Poor Roald! It isn’t fair on him.’

  ‘I do not see why I should care, Mrs Svensson,’ said my mother.

  ‘Well,’ she began. ‘Imagine if it was Teddy. Or Hazel. Think of her future!’

  ‘All I can say to that, Mrs Svensson, is that we are not friends,’ said my mother, and I imagined her, straight-backed, glaring at her guest from her sofa. ‘What you are saying has made that very clear. We are enemies.’

  ‘Oh, how rude!’ gasped Mrs Svensson, and at that moment a door opened and we heard Mr Svensson’s big voice enter the room.

  ‘Kendra, we must be going,’ he said. ‘Good morning, June.’

  Then there was the bustle of Mrs Svensson getting up and wishing my mother goodbye – she did it very well, and I wouldn’t have guessed that they had just been arguing bitterly if I had not heard them.

  Daisy and I looked at each other. We crept away from the window, and then stood up and began strolling along the gravel path as though we had nothing to hide.

  It is funny to think of the difference between our house’s garden and Daisy’s at Fallingford. Hers is all sweeping green grass, enormous old trees and a lake and a maze, everything frost-bitten in the morning. Wildness is tidied away, but it’s never really gone. But, at the Big House, the Hong Kong jungle never comes within its gates. Our garden is set out in perfect gravelled tiers, with pretty painted steps and railings at each level; peach and star-fruit trees are trained to trail along the stone. Flowers for cutting (including my father’s favourite roses) are tucked away behind a carefully built wall until they are blooming and perfect, and everything you see is in pots, even the fruit trees – pots so large you could hide behind them. So, as Daisy and I walked down the length of the house, towards the kitchens at the back, we dodged round pots spilling waxy pink and white camellias, rich red peonies and tall cannas like bolts of flame. Orange and cherry blossom bobbed above them all, and the warm air was heavy with their scent. My nose tickled, and I sneezed.

  ‘Bless you, Hazel,’ said Daisy. ‘So. Mr Svensson’s been making unwise investments, has he? Mrs Svensson’s worried that he doesn’t have enough money to look after Roald; upset enough to shout at your mother about it? But, if that’s so, how can he offer money to Mr Wong?’

  ‘Yes!’ I cried. ‘I know, Daisy. It’s very odd.’

  ‘It only makes sense if he’s doing it because he knows your father would never take the money. That’s right, isn’t it?’

  I nodded. ‘That was exactly what I thought too. But then, what does that mean? Is it a clue?’

  ‘It might be,’ said Daisy. ‘But it’s only one example of false kindness that we’ve seen today. Mr Wa Fan, for example. Hiring Detective Leung for your father seems like a nice thing to do – but somehow I’m not convinced it is.’

  ‘I agree!’ I said. ‘I think Mr Wa Fan is using Detective Leung like a bargaining chip, to make Father grateful. And it’s working. Father wouldn’t take money, but he will accept help. He’d even go back to the temple, for Teddy’s sake. Mr Wa Fan knows him, just like Mr Svensson does.’

  ‘That brings us to Mrs Fu. She’s suddenly very independent, isn’t she? From someone who was begging your father for money very recently, she now needs nothing at all.’

  ‘And she knew exactly how much the ransom was!’ I said.

  We walked a few more steps along the path. I stared up at the house on our left, the high white walls, the wide windows and dark rooms.

  ‘Hazel,’ said Daisy. ‘May I ask one more thing? It may be nothing – in fact, I’m sure it is. Does your mother usually wear a ring on the middle finger of her right hand?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Gold, with an emerald. Why?’

  ‘I noticed her wearing it when we first arrived,’ said Daisy. ‘Very pretty. But now it’s gone. I missed it today, when we were discussing jewellery.’

  I looked at her sharply, and saw her staring back at me, her eyes very blue. ‘She might have left it in her jewellery box, I suppose,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t – she doesn’t always wear it.’

  ‘I see,’ said Daisy. ‘Yes, that could be it.’

  ‘Stop it, Daisy!’ I cried. ‘I know what you’re trying to do. Stop it!’

  Daisy raised an eyebrow at me. ‘What am I trying to do, Hazel?’ she asked.

  ‘Saying that Mother – that she’s still a suspect,’ I said. ‘That she used the ring to pay for Wu Shing to kidnap Teddy, I suppose. Is that what you mean?’

  ‘I hadn’t got that far,’ said Daisy, in a tone that infuriated me, because I knew it was her lying voice. ‘But now that you point it out …’

  ‘Stop it!’ I hissed. ‘You heard her just now! She’s worried about Teddy, she said so. She was angry at Mrs Svensson. And, I told you, she liked Su Li.’

  ‘She doesn’t seem very sad about her dying,’ said Daisy. ‘She hasn’t mentioned it once!’

  ‘You don’t know my mother!’ I said. ‘You don’t understand her, or how things are done here. She does care about people, she simply isn’t affectionate at all. Leave it, Daisy, please!’

  Daisy stopped and turned. I thought she was ignoring me – until from the other side of the nearest plant pot stepped the boy we’d met the day before, the one with the shortened arm. He stood, staring at us.

  Then he turned and ran.

  13

  I have got just a little faster since I first arrived at Deepdean – though I suspect that has more to do with our five murder cases than our Games lessons. But running in Hong Kong air is heavy, and each breath you take is wet. I only got a few paces before I was wheezing awfully. The boy was nimble, and he darted away from me so quickly that I felt I was running in a dream, through treacle.

  It’s lucky that I had Daisy beside me. She leaped forward like a fox, like Atalanta in the myth, and in ten long strides she was upon him, her fingers pinching the back of his neck.

  ‘OW!’ he shouted in Cantonese. ‘Get off me, girl!’

  He also said much worse things than that, only I don’t want to write them here.

  ‘Tell him that I shall let go of him if he turns round and answers some questions, Hazel!’ snapped Daisy. She twisted her fingers, and the boy yelped.

  ‘Get her off me, she’s horrible!’ he shouted at me.

  ‘Daisy, stop it! You’re hurting him!’ I cried.

  ‘Of course I am,’ said Daisy, looking puzzled. ‘He ran away from us.’

  ‘Let me talk to him!’ I said to her. ‘Daisy, leave off – you’re only making things worse. Let me deal with it!’

  Daisy’s mouth fell open. ‘But I always—’ she began.

  The boy was looking from Daisy to me and back again, as though he wanted very much to run away for a second time.

  ‘Don’t move,’ I said to him in Cantonese. ‘Don’t even think about moving.’

  In Cantonese I can be fiercer, not the polite Hazel that I am in English. English is full of phrases that mean nothin
g, like If you wouldn’t mind and Excuse me and Oh, I say, but in Cantonese you can be sharp and to the point. Daisy has made me realize that it is difficult for a person who only speaks English to know when a person speaking Cantonese is upset and when they are not, because to their ears it is a hard, shouting language.

  ‘What are you doing? Why did you run away?’ I asked. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘I ran because you were chasing me,’ said the boy, which I thought was both fair and sharp-witted. ‘You can call me Ah Lan.’

  ‘But why were you listening to us?’ I asked. ‘And you were listening just then, and before – I know you can understand English as well as Cantonese.’

  ‘Yes, I can,’ said Ah Lan, raising one dark eyebrow. ‘Don’t you know your father at all? He makes all his servants learn English.’

  ‘Of course I know my father!’ I cried, flustered. ‘That wasn’t what I asked you. We’ve seen your picture in Su Li’s room. You knew her – do you have something to do with what happened to her and Teddy?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ah Lan. ‘But not in the way you think, all right? Su Li was my cousin. She got me the job here a few years ago. She was a good person, and now she’s dead. And the person who killed her – Wu Shing – I knew him too. He got a job here at the same time I did, as a potboy. He was Su Li’s boyfriend for a while, but last year she left him because he was being cruel to her. Your father fired him, so he had to get another job. He needed money, and I’ve heard someone paid him to commit the crime.

  ‘I’ve been watching you too, because Detective Leung is wrong about where that pin came from. This has nothing to do with Sai Yat and his gang, or any gang at all. I heard you and Miss Wells talking, and I know it’s yours. At first I thought that meant you were the one who ordered Su Li’s murder. I was going to kill you. But then I realized that you don’t know what happened at all. Someone else is behind it, some other rich person paid Wu Shing. And I thought that, if I followed you, you’d help me work out who that is.’