The Chinese Maze Murders (2 page)

Heaven created an immutable pattern for ten thousand ages, Regulating sun and stars above, mountains and rivers below; Thereafter the sages of old did model our sacred social order, Taking Heavenly Justice as warp, and man-made Law as woof.

A wise and honest judge is Heaven’s unerring instrument, The people’s father and mother, both compassionate and stern; In his court the oppressed obtain redress of all their wrongs, No criminal there escapes, despite base fraud and guile.

U
NDER
the present illustrious Ming dynasty, in the Yoong-lo era, our Empire is at peace, crops are plentiful, there are neither droughts nor floods, and the people are prosperous and content. This fortunate state of affairs is due entirely to the August Virtue of His Imperial Majesty. Naturally in this blessed time of peace crimes are few, so that the present provides scant material for the study of crime and detection. Rather than the present one must turn to the past for accounts of baffling crimes, and their marvellous solution by perspicacious magistrates.

Finding myself with ample leisure for the pursuit of my favourite study, I diligently search old records and dusty archives for famous ancient criminal cases, and I have made it a habit always to listen carefully to my friends and acquaintances
when, gathered in the tea house, they start discoursing on the astounding crimes solved by famous judges of past centuries.

The other day, late in the afternoon, I strolled through the Western Park to admire the lotus flowers that were in full bloom. I crossed the carved marble bridge that leads to the island in the center of the lotus pond, and found myself an empty corner table on the open terrace of the restaurant there.

Sipping my tea and nibbling dried melon seeds I enjoyed the beautiful view over the lake all covered with lotus flowers. I observed the motley crowd and, as I often do, amused myself by trying to deduce from the appearance of some passers-by their personality and background.

My eye fell on two remarkably beautiful girls who passed by walking hand in hand. Their strong resemblance suggested at once that they were sisters. But evidently their characters were entirely different. The younger one was gay and vivacious who talked all the time. The elder, on the contrary, was reserved and shy who hardly answered the other. Here face bore an expression of deep sadness. I felt sure that somewhere there was a deep tragedy in her life.

As the two girls disappeared among the crowd I noticed that they were followed by an elderly woman; she had a slight limp, walked with a cane and seemed intent on overtaking the girls. I took her to be their duenna. But as she passed in front of the terrace I saw such an evil leer on her face that I hastily transferred my attention to a handsome young couple that came walking along.

The young man wore the cap of a Candidate of Literature, the girl was dressed demurely as a housewife. They walked apart but from the fond looks they gave each other it was clear that they belonged together. I concluded from their furtive air that theirs must be an illicit love affair.
Just when they were passing in front of me the girl made to take the young man’s hand, but he hastily withdrew his and shook his head with a frown.

Letting my eyes rove over the guests assembled on the terrace I noticed a plump, neatly-clad man who was sitting alone just like myself. He had a round, pleasant face, I placed him as a member of the landed gentry. Since he seemed the talkative type I hastily averted my eyes fearing that he would mistake my intent gaze as an invitation to strike up an acquaintance. I preferred to be left alone with my own thoughts, all the more so since I had seen a glint in his eyes that made me wary. I reflected that a man with that cold, calculating look that so belied his friendly face might well be capable of committing a dark, premeditated deed of evil.

After a while I saw an old gentleman with a flowing white beard slowly come up the steps of the terrace. He was clad in a brown robe with wide sleeves seamed with black velvet, and a high cap of black gauze on his head. Although he wore no insignia of rank, he had a most distinguished appearance. He stood for a moment leaning on his crooked staff, surveying the crowded terrace with piercing eyes from under bushy white eyebrows.

Since a person of such venerable age cannot be left standing, I hastily rose and offered the newcomer a place at my table. He accepted with a courteous bow. While drinking our tea we exchanged the usual polite inquiries and it transpired that his family name was Dee and that he was a retired prefect.

Soon we were engaged in an agreeable conversation. My guest proved to be a man of wide learning and elegant taste, time passed unnoticed while we discoursed on prose and poetry, in between looking at the gay crowd that milled along the water front.

I had noticed that my guest spoke with the accent of Shansi Province. So during a lull in the conversation I asked whether by any chance his family was related to the old Dee clan of Tai-yuan, the capital of that province, which centuries ago, during the Tang dynasty, had produced the great statesman Dee Jen-djieh.

Suddenly the old gentleman’s eyes blazed. He angrily tugged at his long beard.

“Ha!” he exclaimed, “my family is indeed a branch of the Dee clan from which issued the great Judge Dee, and very proud I am to count him among my ancestors. Yet at the same time this fact is a source of continuous vexation. Whenever I am eating my bowl of rice in a restaurant or sipping the fragrant brew in a tea house, as often as not I will hear the other guests tell each other stories about my illustrious ancestor. It is true that what they say about Dee Jen-djieh’s brilliant career at the Imperial Court is usually substantially correct; moreover such facts can be verified by referring to the official annals of the Tang dynasty. Mostly, however, those ignorant persons will bandy about bizarre tales about the earlier part of Dee Jen-djieh’s career when he was serving as district magistrate in the provinces, and as ‘Judge Dee’ became famous for having solved many a mysterious criminal case. In our family the truthful account of most of those cases has been faithfully transmitted during untold generations. It greatly annoys me to have to listen to all those spurious stories told in the tea house, and I usually leave without finishing my meal.”

The old gentleman shook his head and angrily stamped his staff on the stone flags.

I was delighted to learn that my guest was indeed a descendant of the famous Judge Dee. I rose and bowed deeply in front of him to show my deference for his distinguished family. Then I spoke thus:

“Venerable Sir, know that I am a keen student of true accounts describing the feats of detection performed by the eminent judges of our glorious national past. Far from being an idle gossip, however, I delight in a careful analysis of those ancient records. For do they not serve as a mirror for us who live in this late age, warning us by showing our own foibles and defects? Those accounts not only improve the morals and ameliorate the customs, they also act as a powerful deterrrent for all wicked people. Nowhere can be found more eloquent proof of how closely the net of Heavenly justice is woven, and of how no evil-doer in the long run ever succeeds in slipping through its mazes.

“Now in my opinion antiquity has no detective that can compare with Judge Dee. For many years I have been sedulously collecting notes about the cases solved by his brilliant mind. Now that a propitious fate has granted me this meeting with you, Sir, who are a fount of information on this subject, I wonder whether it would be presuming on your kindness if I humbly requested you to give me the benefit of hearing a few lesser known cases from your own lips.”

The old gentleman readily agreed, and I invited him to join me in a simple supper.

Twilight was falling and the guests had left the terrace for the restaurant inside where the servants had lighted candles and coloured paper lanterns.

I avoided the main hall with the chattering dining crowd and led my guest to a small side room overlooking the lake, now bathed in the red glow of sunset.

I ordered two dinners of four courses and a pot of warm wine.

When we had tasted from the dishes and drunk a few rounds, the old gentleman stroked his long whiskers and said:

“I shall relate to you three astonishing criminal cases which my revered ancestor Judge Dee solved under most unusual circumstances. At that time he was serving as magistrate of Lan-fang, a far-away district on the Northwestern border of our Empire.”

He then set out on a long and complicated narrative.

Although what he told was not without interest, he proved much given to lengthy digressions and his voice was as indistinct and monotonous as the humming of a bumble bee. After a while I found my attention flagging. I emptied three cups in succession to clear my mind but the amber liquid only made me still more drowsy. While the voice of my guest droned on and on I seemed to hear the spirit of sleep rustle in the close air.

When I woke up I found myself alone in the chilly room, bent over the table with my head resting on my folded arms.

A surly waiter was standing over me and told me that the first night watch had been sounded; did I perchance mistake this restaurant for a hostel where people stay overnight at will?

My head was heavy and I did not immediately find the right phrase to put that boorish yokel in his place. Instead I inquired after my guest, describing his appearance in some detail.

The waiter answered that earlier in the evening he had been serving another section of the restaurant, and anyway did I think that he had time to look up and down every single guest? Presently he produced a bill for two six course dinners and eight pots of wine. I could do nothing but pay, although by then I greatly doubted whether my encounter with the old gentleman had not been a dream, and whether that rascal of a waiter was not taking advantage of my confusion to overcharge me grossly.

I left feeling I had been ill-used and walked home through the deserted streets. My page was fast asleep huddled in a corner of my library. I did not wake him but tiptoed to the bookshelves. I took down the annals of the Tang dynasty, the Imperial Gazetteer and my own notes on Judge Dee. Poring over these volumes I found that although the general features of the old gentleman’s story accorded well enough with historical fact, there existed no such place as Lan-fang on the Northwestern border. I thought that possibly I had misheard the name and resolved to visit the old gentleman next day to ask him for further elucidation. Then I found to my dismay that although I clearly remembered every word of the story he told me, try as I might I could not recollect one single personal detail concerning him; I had forgotten both his full name, and his present place of residence.

I shook my head, moistened my brush, and that very night committed to writing the entire story he told me, laying down my brush only when the cock started crowing.

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