A Spoonful of Murder

  It was a typical Daisy plan – quite mad, and utterly daring. But, I thought, it was far better than anything I had yet come up with.

  ‘All right,’ I said after a moment. ‘Let’s try it.’

  ‘Excellent!’ said Daisy. ‘And now you can do some secretarying and write all this out while we rest before breakfast time.’

  1

  Our plan was made – now I was the one who needed to set it all in motion. At breakfast I steeled myself and turned to my father.

  ‘What, Hazel?’ he asked, looking up from his daau jeung and pushing his glasses up his nose in a rather threatening way.

  ‘I wanted to ask you something,’ I said, failing to suppress a gulp of nervousness.

  ‘What?’ asked my father shortly. ‘Today is busy, Hazel. It is the last day before—’

  He did not need to say, before the ransom.

  ‘I – I was wondering if you would take me and Daisy for yum cha,’ I said, and I felt a blush spread across my face. I was worried I sounded false, and even more worried that I sounded eager.

  ‘I want to go too!’ shouted May. Rose pinched her.

  ‘No, Hazel,’ said my mother. ‘You shouldn’t leave the house.’

  I jumped. Was this a coded way of saying that she had seen us coming home?

  ‘Hazel, I do not have time for this,’ said my father. ‘Go with Ping, if you must.’

  I opened my mouth to agree, to apologize for not thinking. But somehow what came out was, ‘I’m not the one who’s been kidnapped.’

  ‘Do not joke about this,’ said my father, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

  ‘I mean—’ I was stumbling over the words. ‘Teddy is gone, but I’m still here, and so are Rose and May. You have four children, not one.’

  I thought my father was about to hit me. He raised his hands – and then he covered his face with them. Next to me Daisy’s eyes were wide. My mother sat frozen.

  ‘Take them, Vincent,’ said Jie Jie suddenly. ‘Nothing will happen. I’ll be here; Maxwell will be here. Hazel is right.’

  ‘You should go, sir,’ said Maxwell in his starchy voice, from where he was standing at the edge of the room.

  My father took off his glasses and polished the lenses.

  ‘Eleven o’clock,’ he said, without quite looking at me. ‘Maxwell, tell Wo to bring the car round.’

  May cheered.

  As I got up from the table and went out into the corridor, my mother followed me, putting her soft hand with its painted nails on my arm and pulling me away from Daisy. I turned to her nervously, and I saw that she was wearing her shining gold ring again. I breathed out. She had simply not put it on the day before. Daisy had been wrong, and my mother was ruled out even more clearly.

  ‘Ying Ying,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I saw you last night. And I know about your pin. I know where it was found. Whatever you are doing, you must stop it. You don’t understand what might happen if you don’t. But, if you keep quiet, it will go away. I swear it. Do you hear me? I … You are my daughter, do you understand?’

  I wanted to tell her that she had misunderstood, but something in her eyes alarmed me. She looked not just angry, but frightened. ‘Yes, Ah Mah,’ I whispered.

  I realized that my mother had put the pin together with what she had seen this morning and come to the wrong conclusion. But did that mean she thought that I was the person who had planned Teddy’s kidnap? And, if so, was this her way of saying that she would try to protect me?

  2

  Daisy and I made our way out into the gardens. The sun was low still, the air chilly, but the trees buzzed and clicked with morning insects.

  We sat at the edge of the pond. Its stone lip was cold through the cotton of my trousers, and I shivered a little and shifted closer to Daisy. She was bending over the surface of the pond, dangling her fingers above the red and yellow and black koi who drifted, making the water flick and clop as they shoved against each other with their heavy bodies.

  We knew that Ah Lan would be watching and, sure enough in another minute he appeared on the other side of the pond, around the side of the Monkey King statue, a basket tucked under his short left arm, and began to toss handfuls of pellets into the water. It churned silver as the koi leaped up, mouths open, to eat. Ah Lan was wearing his conical hat up on his head, which put his face in shadow.

  ‘I wonder,’ said Daisy idly, ‘whether that food tastes as nice to them as cake tastes to us?’

  ‘I used to give them cake sometimes,’ I admitted. ‘I think they prefer it. Only it was Chinese cake, not English. I don’t know if they’d like chocolate.’

  As Ah Lan came closer, throwing pellets in regular, long arcs with his right hand, I raised my voice.

  ‘We’re going to Mrs Fu’s teahouse this morning,’ I said, carefully keeping my eyes on Daisy. ‘We think it’s possible she might have Teddy there with her. Then we’re going to try to go back to the doctor’s office. We need to look at the scene of the crime. I wonder if there’s any news on our three suspects?’

  ‘I have heard something,’ said Ah Lan, nodding under his hat at the fish. ‘Mrs Fu withdrew all the remaining money in her bank account just after twelve on Monday. Mr Svensson arrived at the bank at twelve, and did not return to his car until twenty-five past. His chauffeur said that, when he did, he seemed alarmed and upset. He went home, but went out again that afternoon, and was not back until almost six. And Mr Wa Fan paid his chauffeur to tell everyone he spoke to that they had visited the temple that day, not the bank.’

  ‘If he paid him, how do you know?’ Daisy asked me loudly.

  ‘We paid him more,’ said Ah Lan, a smile on his face. ‘We paid many people. Mr Svensson’s chauffeur was especially grateful. He hasn’t seen much money lately.’

  ‘What about Wu Shing’s betting stubs?’ I asked. ‘Um – could you – could you read them?’

  This would have seemed like a rather silly question to Daisy, but it wasn’t. You see, reading in Chinese is not the same as in English, where once you know your twenty-six letters you have the key to everything. Each character in Chinese is not a letter, but an idea, and so there are thousands and thousands of them. Reading or writing in Chinese is as far from reading or writing English as baking a mooncake is from making shortbread.

  ‘I can read well enough,’ Ah Lan said to the fish, which were thrashing wildly, mouths open so hopefully wide that their jaws seemed ready to dislocate. ‘The stubs are from a number of different races. My contacts will get more information. Meet back here at six this evening, just before dinner, and I’ll tell you. But remember – you have to hold up your side of the bargain. You must tell your father about the pin today, all right?’

  ‘I will,’ I said, and Ah Lan threw his last handful.

  Daisy stood up and offered me her arm and, as Ping came hurrying out from the door of the house to find us, we waved lazily at her, as though we had all the time in the world.

  ‘Do you know, Hazel,’ said Daisy as Ah Lan walked away. ‘He may be a criminal, but he’s quite helpful, for a boy.’

  To Daisy, I know, everyone in the world who is not me or Bertie or Uncle Felix (and perhaps now George) is slightly less than real, to be used as she sees fit. The more I know of life, the more I wish that this was not so – and the more I understand that I can never change it. It is what makes Daisy Daisy, the key to the marvellous pull of her. She simply does not care.

  So I made up my mind to be simply glad that Daisy had decided to let Ah Lan into the investigation, and not to let myself think quite yet of what might happen when I told my father about the pin.

  3

  When we came out of the house again at eleven, Wo On was waiting in his freshly pressed uniform, holding open the shiny door of the car for us.

  My father was punctual to the minute, as he always is, but he did not look as fresh as Wo. In the sunshine, I could see that his suit was the one he had worn the day before, hanging limp and dirty, and his glasses w
ere sitting rather crookedly on his nose. He looked at Daisy and me as though he rather wished we would go away, and my heart sank. May and Rose came scampering out after him, and I felt more nervous than ever. They would be there. They would hear what I had to say.

  When the car pulled up outside the Luk Man Teahouse in Central, I saw that its sign, which I remembered as so bright and lovely, was fading rather, its gold and red needing paint. The very walls of the building were cracking too. It was on four floors, on one side of a busy, rather dark street, the entrance guarded by two stone Chinese lions, much smaller than Stephen and Stitt at the bank, and wearing themselves away to grey lumps.

  Mrs Fu herself came out to greet us, bowing profusely (and not looking particularly guilty – though perhaps that was a just a blind), and then guided us up two steep flights of wooden stairs, hung with screen paintings of flowers and birds, to the most ornate room of the teahouse. It was softly lit by square lamps, the walls covered with beautiful calligraphic pictures. We were seated at a small round table on hard dark chairs, and an old waiter came stomping up with our tea.

  Rose poured (May not being trusted) for my father, and then for Daisy and me and May, and I noticed again the little things that are the true differences between England and Hong Kong. The way a face is expected to look, the way a person is expected to dress, those are unlike enough, but somehow not as starkly different as the smell a pot of tea has as it is being poured, the drum of fingers on a table in thanks for the cup, the particular light from the lamps – that is how I know I am in Hong Kong, not in England. I truly feel it in my bones.

  The old waiter shuffled over and my father ordered imperiously, without glancing at the menu. The waiter limped away again, and there was a long, awkward silence. Rose fiddled with her chopsticks. May hugged the stick she had brought with her.

  ‘So, girls,’ said my father. ‘How are you?’

  ‘All right,’ I said. I couldn’t find the words, again, to say what I really wanted to. I was suddenly desperate to ask Father about Su Li. Did he think about what he had done to her with his order? Did he feel sorry that his choice had put her in that lift? Did he mind that she was dead?

  ‘I’m a pirate, and I’m going to find Teddy!’ said May loudly, and the table went very silent. I couldn’t look at Daisy.

  The waiter limped back over to us and thumped a stack of bamboo dim sum platters down onto the clean white tablecloth. He lifted up each one in turn and pointed to it. ‘Siu lung bau. Har gau. Fung tsao. Lo bak go. Tsaa leung. Char siu bao,’ barked the waiter, glaring at Daisy as if threatening her to protest. Daisy gave him her best beaming smile, but it faltered under his withering gaze.

  ‘Is it a clue that the waiter’s being terribly rude?’ she whispered to me.

  ‘They’re always like that,’ I whispered back, looking over at the other waiter, who was glaring at us, lip curled, from across the room. ‘But you could be right …’

  I took a nervous bite of turnip cake and swallowed it in a heavy, gluey gulp. How was I going to manage this?

  Daisy was peering at the dishes in front of her, while May giggled and Rose tried to hide her smiles behind her hand. ‘Oh!’ said Daisy as she saw the plate of orange chicken feet, their claws curled together as though they were in agony. I think chicken feet are delicious, fatty and meltingly soft, but it is not polite in England to show that the meat you are eating once came from an animal, and so beaks, eyes and feet are removed before the dish ever reaches the table. In Hong Kong, many people love those bits best, and it is quite normal to enjoy them.

  ‘It’s perfectly all right!’ I said, grinning at her.

  ‘I shall try it,’ said Daisy, recovering herself bravely. ‘How does – how does one eat it?’

  ‘The trick is to start with the toes,’ I said helpfully.

  ‘Ugh!’ said Daisy. ‘On second thoughts, what about some dumplings?’

  The waiters were watching, glaring, and behind them I saw Mrs Fu. She was wearing a green brocade cheongsam, peeping out from a half-curtained doorway, her eyes narrowed. She was watching us too. My heart beat faster.

  ‘Um,’ I said. ‘Ah. Um. Father. I wanted to say that – I’m sorry about Teddy.’

  My father took a deep breath. Then he reached out and touched my hand.

  ‘That is good of you,’ he said.

  ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,’ I said. ‘It’s – well, I thought it wasn’t important, but—’

  ‘What is it?’ asked my father, frowning.

  ‘The pin,’ I said. ‘The one they found in—’

  ‘STUCK IN THE BODY,’ said May loudly.

  ‘MEI LI!’ said my father.

  ‘That one,’ I said, my stomach swooping and plunging. ‘It was – it was the one Grandfather gave me. I lost it the night before, at the Svenssons’ party. I don’t know how it got there. In the lift. I didn’t put it there. I didn’t have anything to do with it, I promise!’

  I was babbling, I could feel it. My face heated and my hands shook. I put down my chopsticks on my bowl.

  ‘Why did you not tell me this before?’ asked my father. May and Rose were both staring at me, their mouths identical Os.

  ‘I thought you might think I did it,’ I whispered. ‘I thought Detective Leung would suspect me.’

  ‘You lied to me,’ said my father quietly.

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘I just – I didn’t tell you because—’

  ‘Because you care more about yourself than your brother.’

  My eyes watered at the shock of his words. ‘That isn’t true!’ I said. ‘I do care about Teddy. I want to get him back. I’ve been—’ But of course I could not say what Daisy and I had been doing. I had to keep on, I told myself. I had to say what Sai Yat had asked me to. ‘Father, what I mean to say is – don’t you see, the pin isn’t just any pin? The person who took it has to have been at that party too! It’s not Sai Yat who took Teddy at all, it can’t be. And it’s not just Teddy, it’s Su Li. She’s dead, and that matters. Why don’t you understand?’

  Last summer my father had listened to what I told him about a case. But this was not last summer. I saw his face close up, his jaw harden. And I knew that he would not hear me this time.

  ‘GOODNESS ME!’ said Daisy very loudly beside me. ‘IS THERE PRAWN IN THIS DUMPLING?’

  4

  She had her hands to her mouth, and the har gau she had been served was gone. Her cheeks did indeed look flushed, her blue eyes bulging in most excellently manufactured panic and her lips puffy. I was impressed. As usual, Daisy did not do anything by halves. She must have used the chilli oil on the table, I thought. It was very inventive of her.

  ‘She’s allergic!’ I cried. ‘Quick, she needs help!’

  My father glared at me. I knew our conversation wasn’t over, but now he leaped into action. He barked out a command to the waiters, and they came rushing rather unsteadily over to help him. Even Mrs Fu burst out of her hiding place and ran for the telephone, which was set up in a little alcove at the top of the stairs.

  I looked at that telephone. It was secluded enough for the kidnapper to make the call, close enough to the kitchen and dining room to make the noises my father had heard. Our theory could work.

  ‘Telephone Dr Aurelius,’ my father called out to her.

  I looked at the scene. Mrs Fu was occupied. This was my chance. Daisy wheezed and coughed, and I went rushing towards Mrs Fu’s alcove, which I knew led to her rooms above the restaurant.

  ‘I’ll go and get towels!’ I gasped out, for in books towels are always used in medical situations for purposes that are left mainly mysterious by the books’ writers. However, they are always there, and so I thought that this would be a good enough excuse.

  The stairs were dark and narrow, their walls grimy with years of wok smoke. I scrabbled my way up them, hearing my own heavy breathing, fearing terribly that at any moment someone might come upon me and stop me before I could carry out my search.


  There ahead of me was a curtained doorway. I pushed my way through it – and out into a room that was not at all what I had been expecting.

  It was clean, its plain walls and wooden floor scrubbed. It had once been a rather pretty room, but I could see lighter patches where paintings had hung, and dents on the floor where tables and chest of drawers had stood before they were pawned. This was a room whose owner could hardly afford it any more.

  Mrs Fu’s money worries really were serious. She must be desperate. Her business was failing. She had every reason to kidnap Teddy for the ransom. But, if she had, where was he? Not here, certainly. There was nowhere to hide him, not even a cupboard set into the wall.

  But, on a small, low table, I found a little pile of betting stubs, with the words HAPPY VALLEY RACECOURSE printed across the top of each one. My scalp prickled. They looked just like the ones we had found in Wu Shing’s room. Mrs Fu had been seen in Wu Shing’s lift on the morning of the murder. Was this the clue we needed to prove the connection between them? Teddy wasn’t here, but had we just discovered once and for all who had taken him?

  There was a roar from below. ‘HAZEL!’ bellowed my father. ‘WHERE ARE YOU?’

  I had to go. I picked up a towel – only slightly used – from a pile as my cover, and ran back downstairs.

  5

  I was not at all prepared for what I saw when I came rushing back out through the alcove door, the towel still clutched in my hands.

  Daisy was not, as I had expected, sitting up and sipping prettily from a glass of water, waiting to go to the doctor. She was lying flat on the floor, making a strange gasping noise, while everyone crowded around her.

  ‘Where have you been?’ my father shouted at me. ‘We are taking Miss Wells to Dr Aurelius. Hurry, Hazel!’