Death In Shanghai Read Online Free PDF Page B

start in other places, of course, but somehow, it never felt right. Meaningless deaths to salve an itch. There was no pleasure in it. But here, he had found his reason to exist. Perhaps the city had fed it, like a mould growing on a petri dish, concentrating the need like never before. And, strangely, Shanghai had made it so much easier to act. Here, everything was allowed, nothing forbidden, not even him.
    He took out another cigarette and lit it with his gold Dunhill lighter. Time to play with her now. She deserved not to be kept waiting.
    ***
    ‘Are you both leaving? Just as I was beginning to enjoy myself. The dance doesn’t end for at least another half an hour.’
    ‘I need to check in at the office,’ said Richard, ‘you know how I’m expected to show my face every day. Ah Ching will have already finished everything, of course.’
    ‘And I’m feeling incredibly dirty, like I’ve been swimming in Soochow Creek. Horrible feeling,’ said Alfred.
    She pouted, placing another cigarette in the ivory holder, leaning forward for Alfred to light it. ‘I’m not happy, but you can both make it up to me tonight at Ciro’s. It’s going to cost you a bottle of Belle Epoque and Lobster Thermidor.’
    ‘Can I at least give you a lift back to your place?’
    ‘No thank you, Richard. If you two are both leaving me, I think I’ll do a little window shopping. Dimitri has some new Art Deco pieces in from Paris. There’s this wonderful titanium bracelet that shouts my name every time I see it.’
    ‘I’ll get this.’ Richard took the silver plate off the table and checked the bill: $13.50. He quickly signed the chit, adding a dollar from his pocket as a tip.
    All three got up and ambled towards the door. The waiters still danced frenetically around the tables. A black trumpeter, having received a smattering of applause for his solo, sat back down on his seat as the rest of the orchestra took up the melody. There were fewer dancers now but the short, shiny-haired man and his tall, grinning partner still beat their merry path round the outside of the dance floor, magically avoiding all the other dancers.
    Before they had even reached the door, the waiters had removed the glasses, plates, tablecloth and half-drunk bottle of champagne, replacing them with a fresh supply of tableware from behind the counter.
    The money had gone too. It had been removed first, of course.

Chapter 3
    Danilov stared out over the creek and onto the now empty ‘Beach of Dead Babies’. The sun was just going down over the post office on the other bank, casting an orange haze over the river.
    ‘I always like to come back to the scene of the crime afterwards, Stra-chan. It lets me see at it as the murderer knew it, without the crowds and the rest of the watchers.’
    Life in the creek carried on as usual despite the excitement of that morning. The sampans wobbled in their ungainly way up to the Whampoo or down into the interior. The wharves bustled with sweat and energy as cargo was unloaded from the lighters that served the ships in the harbour. The young boy still sat on the prow of the boat playing with his dog, the tether attached to his foot.
    The waves continued to lap the shores of the ‘Beach of Dead Babies’, where just eight hours before a body had lain with its belly slit open.
    The hawker, with his fragrant pot of sweet potatoes, had vanished though, gone to ply his trade somewhere else.
    ‘It’s quiet, sir.’
    ‘It is if you ignore all the bustle and noise of the river.’
    ‘I meant compared to this morning.’
    ‘That’s the point, Stra-chan.’ He rolled a cigarette with tobacco from his tin. ‘I can see it as it was when the murder was committed.’ He brought the cigarette up to his mouth and took a long drag, coughing as he exhaled, clearing his lungs. ‘But of course, this wasn’t the primary murder scene. The body was carried here.’
    Strachan stared out into the river. A sampan swam past the ‘Beach of Dead