The Shanghai Moon Read Online Free PDF

before he could take two steps. My boldness makes me blush, thinking of it now, but Mama, the half hour we’d spent over tea was the only half hour since the train pulled out of Salzburg that I haven’t been afraid. Can you understand that? I’ve been trying so hard to be brave, to look after Paul and be
responsible,
and really, Mama, I’ve been managing, please don’t think I haven’t. But this brief time spent with someone who is neither a frightened refugee,nor in the business of frightening refugees—I’d nearly forgotten what it was to converse, to speak of things beyond fear and loneliness and the horrors of our situation. So I called after Mr. Chen Kai-rong, and when he quickly turned back to me, I had to have something to say! I blurted, “Sir? My young brother and I go to China alone, with no more knowledge than we could glean from a children’s poetry book. If you’d care to educate me about your country, so I’m not a total dunce when we arrive, I should like that very much.”
    He smiled. “I think, Rosalie, you stand no chance of being a dunce. But I’d be honored to talk with you about my country. Will you take tea with me again tomorrow afternoon? I can arrange for a group of rowdy children with dangerous toys, if that will entice you.”
    “I need no enticing,” I told him, and the deal was struck.
    So, Mama, soon I’ll be what the British call an “old China hand.” I’m looking forward to my education, but more than that, to another half hour with someone in whose presence I can forget that I’m afraid.
    Stay well, Mama, and come soon!
    Your Rosalie
    As I slipped the printout onto my bedside table, I could almost feel the salt wind. I wondered what kind of teaRosalie and Chen Kai-rong had been drinking: Osmanthus flower? Chrysanthemum? And did the Italian liner stock these teas for the Chinese passengers, or had Chen Kai-rong brought his own tea aboard? Maybe he’d found a favorite shop in Europe where he bought his Chinese tea, and now he was taking it home.
    I fell asleep and dreamed of oceans.

3
    “You slept well,” said my mother: a declaration, not a question.
    She’s a restless sleeper herself. It was entirely possible she’d seen light under my door at 2:00 A.M. and was ostentatiously pretending she hadn’t. Rather than get into that, I poured myself tea and called my best and oldest friend, Mary.
    “Lydia! Are you back?”
    “Almost completely. You have time for lunch today?”
    “I’m on the eight to four, but I’ll make time. My vic won’t be any deader after lunch.”
    “You have a homicide?” I was surprised. Mary Kee is a Fifth Precinct detective. She does, or, as she says, undoes, extortion, robbery, and assault, but the precincts usually hand off homicides to the NYPD’s specialized squads.
    “Not exactly. An Asian John Doe in a Times Square hotel. Bad teeth, no money, no papers, so they think he might be an illegal. Midtown Homicide asked for someone from down here to help ID him. My captain doesn’t like it, but he couldn’t say no.”
    “Why doesn’t he like it?”
    “He thinks the special-squad guys are divas. Especially Midtown Homicide. They don’t play well with others.”
    “Sibling rivalry in the NYPD? I’m shocked and appalled.Well, bring along the John Doe’s photo. Maybe I know him.”
    “Oh, sure. Lydia, you’ve been away so long I’m surprised you still know your way around.”
    “For Pete’s sake, it was one month! You sound like my mother.”
    “What? I take it back. See you later.”
    I did my dishes and got dressed for a day of gumshoeing. As an afterthought, I slipped into my bag the Rosalie Gilder letters I’d printed out last night but hadn’t read. Then I headed out to see if I still knew my way around.
    Rushing Chinese people and strolling tourists crowded the hot, bright sidewalks. I worked my way past open storefronts where ice-filled boxes displayed dozens of kinds of fish, past piled vegetable stands and